30 Shades of Red
by Lapis Love
Summary: "He studied my body like it was a Grey's Anatomy textbook, and he always knew where to put his scalpel and make an incision." No this isn't a TVD/50 Shades crossover per se, but Bonnie discovering exactly what it is she wants from her ex-husband, Damon Salvatore. They found love, lost it, and now one of them is trying to get it back. AU/Supernatural. Give it a shot.
1. My Intro Please

**A/N: Okay, you guys I wrote this up sometime last summer, and I told myself I wasn't going to post it until it was at least part way finished. Well, technically I have three chapters, but this chapter is the only one that is complete. I've tried working on my other stories, but my muse is still in mourning over what happened in 4x22, and she wanted a tiny break from the stories following canon. This is AU, and partially supernatural, I just won't be getting into that heavily like I've done in my other stories. Thank you in advance for giving this a try. This starts off in my usual lemony fashion. Just a fair warning.**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

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He studied my body like it was a Grey's Anatomy textbook, and he always knew where to put his scalpel and make an incision. His strokes were always deep and strong. He knew my body better than an art historian knew Rembrandt, and that was only because I trained him that way.

Damon Salvatore never came too quick or too early. He always arrived right on time. I never had to direct him like I was landing a plane or parking a car. Silent communication was the key with us. It never took more than a simple look or the placement of our lips for the other to know either you fucked up or you just made my day. I knew him and he knew me.

Right now I imagined it was his fingers tickling me between my legs, playing me like a guitar. I imagined it was his breath I felt fanning against my neck instead of the wind pouring in from the open window. I imagined it was his artful tongue flicking across my stiff nipples, making them feel as if they would explode.

He wasn't here, but the memory of him was. It was enough to get me off.

Sunlight poured into the room and I was sure I was giving some lucky soul an X-rated show. I didn't care about being seen, I just needed to detox after another horrific week at work. I needed to forget what an anal asshole I worked for. I needed to be reminded that the clothes I strapped on to work everyday might have been stiff, and starched to perfection, but underneath the suit I was a sensual woman with a healthy sexual appetite that was hard to sate.

Quickly my fingers worked their magic. I added a little heat to my tips while simultaneously cooling my skin trying to get the right balance of hot and cold to further trick my mind into thinking Damon was doing this and I wasn't. Sweat pebbled across my top lip. My legs fell apart a little wider to make room for him. His breathing had increased against my skin, his fingers working like a locomotive. He was whispering raunchy things in my ear and I was close.

_You like it when I finger fuck you don't you, Bonnie? _

Hearing the phantom sound of his voice was my undoing.

I whimpered and cried out as I was thrown into the abyss, tumbling into the middle of the sun. Every single muscle in my body was tight, and I held my breath, as my inner muscles contracted and released. For as wonderful as it felt when the euphoria wore off I still felt irritated and like crap. My horniness didn't even budge. If anything I just made myself even more randy. If I wanted to put myself out of this torture that would mean swallowing my pride and calling him, but I had a strict rule about that.

No more hooking up with ex-husbands.

I rolled to a sitting position, and slapped my feet against the floor. With all the blood being redirected away from my shaved cat back to my head, I suddenly came down with a severe case of vertigo. I always tried to loiter in bed after getting myself off to avoid that feeling, but I needed to move. I had less than forty-five minutes to get to work, and my boss was the last person you wanted to be tardy for.

Music was playing softly in the background on my iPod home system. My room smelled of unfulfilled sex, crushed dreams, left over brown rice and chicken, and stale wine.

I had a rager of a night last night. Pigging myself out on takeout, cheap wine, and a Scandal marathon.

How I wished the President of the United States was obsessed with me. Instead I got a lunatic ex-husband with a grievance and a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas who just happens to be a blood-sucking vampire.

I never should have gone on that show Blind Date.

Okay, I'm exaggerating on that last part. I met Damon during my senior year of high school. We didn't hit it off right away considering our vast age difference. Long story short, he came to town looking to be reunited with an old girlfriend, only to find old girlfriend wanted nothing to do with him. He enlisted my help as well as the help of my grandmother to find her. A bunch of disappointing shit happened, and then one day I was on my back with my legs up in the air with him between them.

I just _knew _Nickolas Sparks was waiting to write out our fantabulous love story.

Damon and I have history. Lots of it. Dated for six years, got married and stayed married for five years until one day I realized I had married Mussolini. The final year of our marriage is what I like to refer to as the dark ages. Trouble had a way of finding us, and when literally my life was placed on the line versus stopping the end of the world, Damon chose to save me (which in hindsight I didn't mind) however, _how _he went about saving me is what I had an issue with. To be honest I didn't like thinking about it because it only led to things catching on fire, and I had enough fire marshals giving me major side-eye.

I really didn't have time to go gun slinging down memory lane. I needed to step into my professional persona.

So I rifled through my closet and pulled out a Casper The Friendly ghost white button down, a heather gray pencil skirt, a sexy pair of leather ankle strap platform heels, and pair of flesh-tone lace stockings.

My boss had a very strict dress code. Being I was his third personal assistant, I had signed a contract agreeing to wear skirts when the weather was nice. They could only be pencil skirts with a hem that stopped no more than two inches from my knee. It had to be tailored. I could pair my skirt with any type of shirt I liked, so long as it came in white.

At first I was thinking this man was too neurotic for me to work for. Who the hell cares what their employee wore so long as you dressed and looked professional? He was seriously adamant about his employees being a representation of him. Oh, but he didn't just stop with the clothes. Nails were to be kept short and immaculate at all times—preferably in the French tip manicure style. No artificial tips, but natural nails. Hair, if worn down had to be either pin straight or wavy. If worn up it had to be styled in a high ponytail, bun or a chignon.

I didn't even know what the hell a chignon was until I got this job. You know how most employers are worried about their employees stealing company time, supplies, secrets, files, and money this man placed more emphasis on the aesthetics. I was ready to say no thanks until he showed me how much I could earn in a year once the three-month probationary period ended.

Can you say great googily moogily? I had never seen so many numbers in my life just for being a third-rate assistant. It made me doggedly curious what his first two assistants made if he was willing to pay me close to seventy-five thousand a year.

Right now I'm entering my eighth month in working for Christian Grey Industries. He's an interesting man to say the least, and I'll touch on him a bit more later. Right now, I seriously needed to hustle if I were to get to downtown in the next thirty minutes.

Putting on my "uniform" I decided to wear my hair in a ponytail because I wasn't in the mood to curl it and that would eat my traveling time. I did a full face of makeup in less than ten minutes, grabbed my keys, my portfolio, my mug of coffee, and walked out of the door.

In the foyer of my apartment complex I saw my old neighbor Mrs. Flowers. She lived alone with her six-year old bishon that hated everyone's guts. I smiled at Mrs. Flowers who returned the gesture. She was one of the few people who never really tried to pry into my business when I first moved into these upscale apartments in Seattle Lake about a year ago.

Alimony from Damon had paid my rent until I landed the job with CGI, and now his alimony was covering my wardrobe. Not everything I owned was designer but it was getting there. I traded shopping at Charlotte Russe and Wet Seal for Nordstrom and Lords & Taylor.

It was summer, but the heat hadn't turned stifling yet. I still had a good two weeks left before I'd have to forgo wearing my hosiery. There was nothing worse than wearing business clothes in the summertime.

The streets were already alive and buzzing with activity at seven in the morning. People hustled along the cracked sidewalk talking into their Bluetooth or cell phone, or their fingers furiously typed on their keyboards, or they surfed the web on their iPad. No one looked at anyone anymore on the street and mumbled good morning. There was nothing but silence except for those yapping away giving a vivid retelling of their exploits the night before or screaming at an incompetent member on their team from work.

As you can imagine there was a Starbucks on every corner in my little district. And of course at every single one the line was wrapped outside of the building. I didn't need to spend close to ten dollars for a cup of java and a slice of cake. The coffee at CGI was top notch, imported, and some of the best I've ever tasted. Luckily it wasn't my job to make the coffee because I would have burned it everyday.

That was just one skill I never cared to master.

CGI was about seven blocks away from where I lived. I was close enough that even if I was running late I could still get there on time, but far enough away that I convinced myself I lived in an entirely different city from it. Normally I took the bus into work. I never attempted to walk, especially not in my heels. I did own a car but parking was such a pain in the ass, that it stayed benched in the garage under my building.

I waited in line at the corner where I caught my bus. Pulled out the novel I had been reading for forever it seemed because the ride was so short I only managed to read about three to four pages each day. As usual, getting on the bus was another event I hated. Men sometimes bumrushed the line, pushing women out of the way just to get on the public limo. And then of course there was always the possibility of being groped by strange hands especially on Monday mornings. As the days passed the line usually tapered off. Monday's were the worse, but I knew when to avoid the rush so I could at least get a seat.

There were about ten people standing in line ahead of me. That was a good sign because usually there's close to thirty people waiting. I smiled at the woman standing in front of me and dropped my eyes to my book.

I might have read a paragraph or two when I got the itch to look up and to my left.

I've seen handsome men before. Hell, my ex-husband was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, could cause a woman to cream just by smirking at her. I worked with some of the best dressed, well-groomed, and most articulate men in the world, but the guy strolling down the avenue looked like something straight out of an erotic graphic novel.

He reminded me of Damon. He had ice-blue eyes and dark hair, but where Damon was about average height for a man, the guy talking on his cell phone was tall, like a basketball player tall, like a glass of water with three ice cubes tall, and I would put his weight at about two-o-five. He was dressed in a European cut suit that was all the rage nowadays in men's fashion, which meant the gunmetal-blue suit he wore hugged him in all the right places. His face was angular and even from the distance separating us I could see the stubble of a mustache above his upper lip. There was a cleft in his chin, and then he did the unthinkable by smiling. Dimples! Yes, come to mama!

I didn't make a habit of preening for guys, but I turned my back a little in his direction so he could see my rounded, high booty, and my calf muscles. I had Zumba and aerobics to thank for my figure, as well as good genes. I looked over my shoulder, a bit coyly to see if he may have noticed me. I wasn't sure if he was coming to stand in line, or if he was merely walking by.

The man stopped right next to me and tapped me on the shoulder. I didn't look at him right away.

"Yes?" I asked and craned my neck to stare up at him.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to bother you," he said in a voice riddled with an accent. I didn't want to assume but he sounded Australian but he could be British or Irish or any number of "ish". But I will say his voice reminded me of Eric Bana's voice. Shiver me timbers.

"Oh, it's no bother," I said and smiled, not too much. Didn't want him to think I was flirting with him.

"Is this where you catch the," he dug in his pocket to retrieve a piece of paper. He read what was written on it. "Is there where you catch the number 15 express to Lorton?"

I had to think about that before responding. I wasn't sure where this bus went after it dumped me off at my stop, but I knew Lorton wasn't before it.

The woman standing in front of me answered the question. "Yes it is. You'll want to get off after the Metro Court stop."

"Thank you," he said to the woman and brought his eyes back to me. "I'm new to the area. Just trying to find my way around. I'm Erik Mauer."

He extended his hand and I shook it. Nice tight grip. Warm palm. Soft hands. I stood a bit taller in my heels.

"Bonnie Bennett, nice to meet you Erik. How long have you been living in Seattle Lake?"

"Not long. I only relocated here three weeks ago from Auckland, New Zealand."

My eyebrows lifted off my head. I had never met anyone from New Zealand before. I had made some friends in college who lived in different parts of the US and even had a friend who hailed from France, but no one south of the equator and on the other side of the world.

"What brings you to the US? You don't have to answer if you don't want, too."

Amazingly twin pink dots formed on his cheeks. Was he blushing? Was little ole' me making this tall glass of water blush? Say it ain't so.

"Work and a bad engagement gone south, I'm afraid. I asked for a transfer and my boss granted me one. Our office here was having some troubles so I'm merely here to be of some assistance to manage it."

"I'm sorry to hear about your engagement," I murmured. I really wasn't but I still had to exercise caution and tap my heels together saying "Please don't be gay".

"As they say, it's her loss."

_Bingo!_

The bus naturally chose that precise moment to pull up. I checked the time on my Amex. I had about twenty-five minutes left before I had to be at my desk, ready to do the bidding of my three bosses. My happy mood after a failed quickie with my fingers and the possibility of a potential date deflated slightly.

We all lined up like ants and swiped our fare card to get on the bus. It was practically empty which was another plus. I sat down at a window seat facing front and wondered if Erik might take the empty seat next to me.

He did.

At first he didn't say anything and I wasn't exactly sure where to start a conversation either. Instead I inhaled deeply and locked into memory the smell of his cologne and after shave. I had gotten good at naming brands by scent because I used to buy Damon his toiletry items and I liked to switch up his fragrance every few months or so. Whatever Erik was wearing, it was definitely masculine but not overbearing. It was a bit woodsy but I picked up a whiff of something citrus as well.

The silence between us stretched but it only made me more aware of him. The heat from his body was beginning to make me shiver.

But then Eirk shifted a bit in his seat.

"Is your stop before my stop?" he asked.

"Yes, it is."

More silence ensured and then he asked another question.

"Do you ride this particular bus everyday?"

"I do. Whenever the weather is bad I drive into work."

"What do you do? If you don't mind me inquiring," he flashed a semi-flirty smile at least I think it was flirty.

"I work as a personal executive assistant at Christian Grey Industries." I couldn't tell him I worked for the CEO, president, and chairman of the board. I had to sign a no disclosure agreement when I was officially hired. By law, I was legally bound not to say that Christian Grey was my boss. He was essentially the man who ran this city. He had his hand in nearly everything. From publishing, to politics, to education. If word got out that I worked for him, the media hounds and gold diggers would be after me trying to get the inside scoop on the future Howard Hughes.

I waited for Erik to scrunch his nose in distaste at my profession. When I told most people that I'm an assistant they automatically assume I'm not college educated, and that I must have two children at home. In my opinion, assistants and secretaries run the company. We just allowed everyone else to take the credit for our work.

"I was an assistant once and I hated it. My boss…total prick. She couldn't do anything right."

I burst out into laughter. I managed to startle a few people who were sitting around us.

Erik was certainly blushing—profusely I might add.

"I only laugh because I expected your prior boss to be male. You know what they say when you assume something."

Erik nodded in understanding and then cracked a tiny indulgent smile. His dimple was winking at me and I was tempted to wink back and maybe flick my tongue against it.

Did I fail to mention that because of Damon I have a high sex drive, and the slightest thing can turn me on? No? My apologies.

I wouldn't say I was a man and thought of sex every ten seconds or so. I could look at an underwear or perfume add and conjure up an entire scenario on what the model was doing before, during, and after and it invariably involved nudity of some kind. If I found my mind wondering during our mandatory board meetings that were held bi-weekly every Monday, my mind would begin to think of the interesting places to have sex in the conference room.

I didn't think I was different from anyone else. But that was a matter of opinion. When I was near or saw a good looking man I dissected him down to the type of underwear he wore. Not to say that I imagined myself doing horizontal acts with random strangers. I just had a deep appreciation for the male body.

Sooner than expected we were approaching my stop.

"Do you like what you do?" Erik asked. "Is your boss at least pleasant to work for?"

I shrugged and decided to be vague and give a non-committal response. I could do no more than that anyways.

"He's a character. The work can be grueling at times and then very redundant at others, but it's a paycheck with an excellent benefits package and four weeks of vacation. This is my stop coming up."

"Oh," Erik said distractedly. He had been too busy watching my lips. He had some difficulty standing while the bus was still in motion. He would become a pro with more practice.

We stared at one another as I mentally told him to ask for my number.

He extended his hand again. "Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Bonnie Bennett. You've definitely made my first bus riding experience less anxiety filled."

"It was nice meeting you, too, Erik. Have a good day at work."

"Will do. Same time and place tomorrow?" he asked with a hopeful gleam to his lapis lazuli eyes.

It wasn't exactly dinner at Ruth Chris or a night at The House of Blues, but it was something. I nodded my head.

"Same time and place tomorrow."

Chapter end.

**A/N: I know this was short and there really wasn't any Bamon interaction. It's coming, I promise if you're interested in reading more. And NO, this isn't TVD meets 50 Shades of Grey (exactly). I'm simply borrowing Christian Grey because well I can mwahahahaha. This is actually based off another book I read called **_**Switch **_**by Megan Hart (who writes erotica a thousand times better than EL James). And no again my plan isn't to turn Bonnie into Anastasia Steele, or Elena any other mediocre maiden as ipodchick would say :P, but to give her a much more adult voice and humanize her. I'll just go ahead and say this is the story in how Bamon work their way from being exes to recapturing why they hell in love and got married in the first place, and you know me it will be bumpy and steamy, but bumpy. If you want more let me know. If reviews are low, won't take it personally (that much) I'll just chuck it up to Bonnie stans feelings being too crushed to even read fanfiction, which I completely understand, I'm still struggling with my bitterness as well. All right, love you guys! I won't leave or forsake you, but I might take a hiatus. I'll let you know if I do.**


	2. Battle of the Exes

**A/N: I love you, guys! No seriously, I do! I really didn't think I'd get more than 7 reviews for this, but to get close to 30, awesome! And I'm so glad you haven't given up hope when it comes to fanficition. So long as you want to read, I'll write. Here is the latest. It's long. You know me. Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

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This was better than caffeine. Nothing could revitalize me more than the possibility of bedroom aerobics. Maybe I'm jumping the gun in thinking that riding the bus everyday with Erik Mauer could lead anywhere, but someone told me that when you dream, dream big and I had every intention on doing that.

I walked towards my place of business with a new pep in my step. From the way I was behaving you'd think my favorite team just won the Superbowl or I scored tickets to a sold-out show. No, my high was like octane fuel running through my veins—the anticipation of seeing someone who not only sparked my interest with his dashing good looks, but also tweaked my intelligence.

I tried hard to hold on to that feeling when I pulled open one of the glass doors leading to CGI. There are but a few words I could use to describe the décor—cold and frigid. Almost everything was limestone, white, and steel. Other than the security guard dressed in his black uniform he provided the only real "color" in the lobby.

He stood up to inspect me as he did each morning, fulfilling his leg porn fetish for the day. "Good morning, Miss Bennett. Any big plans for the weekend?"

I smiled and briefly looked in Officer Coleman's light brown eyes. He was nice and sweet but a bit a prodder. He reminded me of a retired football player still trying to hold on to his glory days. I always held small chit-chat with him because you never know when you might need him to put his law enforcement training to use on your behalf.

"Just hanging out with friends," I replied vaguely and swiped my ID badge, and scribbled my John Hancock in the sign-in log and reported the time I arrived. I now had nine minutes to get to my desk.

"What about you?" I asked to be polite.

Officer Coleman shrugged his brawny shoulders. Not only was he older than me, but bigger. If we did walk down a street together I would look like his child.

"Nothing really other than the fact I'll get to see my granddaughter. She's getting so big. She'll be two in three weeks."

"Oh, how precious," and he pretty much just confirmed my age suspicion, although people were becoming grandparents _a lot_ earlier than they were when my father was growing up. "I know she's excited but she probably has no idea what's going on."

"Elle is real sharp for a two-year old," he said boastfully. "But she takes after her mother—my daughter, so I'm not surprised. Would you like to see a picture?"

I needed to get to my desk, but I didn't want to be rude. I nodded my head and then pointedly checked the time on my watch to send him the message that I needed to be on my way. It was a bit shocking that whenever Officer Coleman was in a chatting mood, the lobby became a virtual ghost town. Maybe I had horrible timing or he had good luck. I still hadn't figured it out yet.

Officer Coleman pulled out his iPhone and quickly opened his photo album and showed me a close-up shot of a cherub face girl with honey colored eyes and wild strawberry curls. She was precious.

"She's so gorgeous," I gushed and it wasn't a part of the let-me-be-nice-so-you-don't-think-I'm-an-asshole act. "I'm sure you and her dad aren't looking forward to her teen years."

The officer's face puckered as he tucked his phone away.

"I really need to get going, Officer Coleman. You have a beautiful granddaughter. I'll speak with you later."

"Okay, sorry to take up so much of your time, Miss Bennett. Have a good one."

I smiled one final time and walked over to the bank of elevators that was behind his desk. I pressed the up arrow, tapped my foot, and stared at my watch.

The elevator binged, the sliding doors parted and I boarded the lift. Thankfully no one else got on with me so the ride to the top floor took less than two minutes.

Once the doors opened again, I stepped into Narnia. I laughed inwardly as I pushed open another set of glass double doors. I nodded at the receptionist Maxine who was invariably directing and taking calls. She waved a manicured hand at me and easily picked up her conversation where it left off.

Heading to the left, I walked around a circular walk way passing by some offices of the top executives at CGI. The Chief Financial Officer and Chief Communications Officer had offices on this floor, but I rarely saw them.

Christian's office was located in the Southwest Corridor that faced the city.

My cubicle located outside of his office wasn't your standard, run-of-the-mill cube, but kind of resembled a flight deck of some sort. Christian's two assistants Cheryl and Dakota who I affectionately refer to as "The Blondes" had three Mac computers at their workstation because they handled contracts, invoices, and updated several of the company's websites.

I being the lowly third assistant had only two Mac computers, but I did have a company owned iPad that I wasn't allowed to take beyond these gray walls unless I was attending an off-site meeting, which was extremely rare for me. Someone had to stay behind and make sure no one broke into the house.

Cheryl was thirty-two, blonde with brown yes, and had the body of a twenty year old. She could be perky and then sometimes a cold, unforgiveable heathen. I refrained from calling head-strong professional women the B word because if she were man she would be patted on the back and given free cigars for being cutthroat, ruthless, and innovative. Depending on the day of the week and the hour, Cheryl could be sweet, but other times she was a little standoffish. She was here to work. Not to mingle and inquire about your weekends and family outings.

Dakota is a little Cheryl in training. Blonde, big breasted, with green eyes. She grew up in a small town, went to a small college where she soared academically, and then moved to the big city to "make it". She was a year younger than me, which I tried not to let it get to me that I was working for someone one year my junior, but she had all the right credentials for the job while I had opted for a total career change.

Hustling spells for a living could only pay so much. Mostly just my utilities but everything else needed steady cash flow.

I wouldn't stay that while I had dated and was married to Damon that I was a kept woman. Being that he's about as old as dirt, he came from a family with money. Not Rockerfeller loot, but he was rich and lived in a big house with servants, and yes slaves. I gritted my teeth every time I thought about that, but that was the age he grew up in unfortunately. And being he was the heir, when his father passed, Damon inherited everything except by that time Damon was a vampire, and legally dead so the family wealth went to the next in line.

I don't know how he got his family money, but he did.

But the point I was trying to make was that I didn't need to work as much because Damon covered the cost of our expenses. I did odd jobs because sitting around the house all day and night didn't appeal to me.

Damon was willing to put down a down payment for a strip mall so I could open my own line of holistic stores and fashion boutiques. It sounded exciting on paper and in theory but I was no businesswoman. I wasn't necessarily looking to run an empire; I just wanted to do an honest day's work. Undertaking something of that magnitude caused me to develop night sweats and sometimes I suffered from anxiety attacks. The fear of failure had kept me in bondage that I went back and forth with Damon and the sellers of the property. So needless to say that idea was scrapped.

The minute the ink was dry on my divorce papers, and as soon as my first alimony check was electronically deposited in my account, I packed my bags and left Mystic Falls, Virginia without a backwards glance.

I needed work so I started getting my resume together, signed up for a couple of business classes online, and began studying for the GRE to get into graduate school. I was determined to make something of my life. So what I had a failed marriage under my belt, and a heaping pile of student loans to pay back. Who didn't? I didn't let it hold me back.

When I saw the opening for an executive assistant position at CGI and I read over the qualifications, and there were many, I knew I didn't stand a chance because I didn't meet a tenth of the requirements, and figured they'd laugh at my resume before yelling, "Next!". I applied anyways just for the hell of it. My feelings wouldn't be hurt if I didn't hear anything back from them.

Imagine my surprise when I was called in for an interview. I had to go through three separate interviews. The first, being over the phone, which I aced. I couldn't remember a single thing I said. I could have been speaking in Aramaic for all I knew, but whatever I mentioned, it was enough for me to be formally invited to come in for a one-on-one interview with The Blondes.

Let me tell you, the interviewing process felt more like a psychological exam. Sometimes I would be asked the same question only it would be worded differently. And I couldn't escape the feeling that they were purposely asking me things so that I could fail miserably.

I was nervous like an ice cube in hell when I had my interview with Christian Grey. The week before I spent all of my free time Googling him, doing my own investigative research so I could ask him questions no one else would think to ask him. There wasn't much personal information about him, but I knew he was deeply entrenched in philanthropy work and had several businesses around the world to which he had a personal stake in. There was almost too much information about the projects CGI headed that I was bewildered.

Yet, I paid attention to my surroundings when I came in for the second interview with The Blondes. If I wanted a job there, like an actor I had to look the part.

The first thing I noticed when I walked through the 22nd Floor sanctum was that men were scarce. Women were the dominate sex who worked closely with Mr. Grey and the CFO and CCO. And I'd have to be blind not to notice that a large percentage of the women who worked here appeared to be under the age of 40 and were some variation of blonde.

There had been, to my recollection at the time, one Hispanic female. I'm not sure which department she worked in but she was almost an exact replica of Penelope Cruz. And I could fit all us African-America ladies on one hand that I managed to peep.

So much for diversity, but I guess that was better than nothing.

Yet I recalled with startling and terrifying clarity the moment I walked into Christian Grey's office.

His desk was made of pure iron steel and was about the length of a dinner table in a castle. He was a minimalist. That much was obvious. He didn't like clutter because other than his chair, computer, phone, a paperweight, and various sculptures peppered throughout his office which was about the size of a conference room at a convention center, there wasn't much to be impressed with. The view was amazing though since his office came equipped with floor-to-ceiling windows giving him a panoramic view of Seattle Lake.

Yet, the obvious focal point of the office was him.

Christian Grey was handsome. No, fione. No, stunning. No, he was a gotdamn demi-god brought to life by the breath of Zeus and dipped in the river Styxx.

Still that might not be an accurate description. Once my eyes laid on him I thought there was no way in the world I could ever work for him. My ass would be bouncing across the pavement under one hour do to lewd and lascivious behavior.

His eyes were the color of his surname but they appeared more silver than anything else. I could see his pupils dilate. His reddish-gold hair was like a flame against his alabaster skin. He was sitting so it made it impossible to figure out how tall he was, but his presence alone was bigger than Eastern Europe and he could have been a shrimp. Yet I could take a guess by going off his broad shoulders and long arms, that he was no midget.

And he was young—almost _too _young to be the CEO of a large conglomerate, a fortune-500 company that always managed to operate in the black.

I got over my startled response to him, extended my hand, and introduced myself without stuttering and sounding like an uneducated hillbilly. No offense to hillbillies.

Mr. Grey didn't ask too many questions. The Blondes had done a bang up job bludgeoning my character, prior work history, references, and expectations if considered for the position.

It wasn't so much the questions he asked or didn't ask, but the fact his eyes were holding a different kind of interview all together. Not to toot my own horn, but I know I'm a babe. I have great hair, great skin, boobs, and legs albeit short, but they were well-toned. I have an onion ass that could make men weep. I took care of myself and apparently it showed and I wanted to make a good impression so I splurged on a Donna Karan suit, Stuart Weitzman heels, and simple jewelry compliments of Express. I wore my hair straight and pulled back behind my ears to lessen the temptation to play with it which can become distracting.

Although it was the rule to always wear a pant suit on an interview, I wore a skirt suit instead in a very light blue color that it did look gray from a distance. The jacket had three buttons, the collar shirt underneath was white, and the pencil skirt stopped just shy of my knees. The pumps on my feet were a darker gray. I kept my makeup natural.

Several times as I droned on and on I did notice that Christian's eyes would take a tour of my body. I didn't get the sense he was hitting on me or was interested to know what I looked like naked. I guess he was trying to ascertain if I would fit with his company aesthetic.

"Thank you, Miss Bennett. I think I have all I need," he interrupted me as I was going through my prepared soliloquy.

His abruptness caught me off guard. My nerves hit and I feared that I blew it. That I bored him to death with my self-centered prattle. I had read that an interview should be a conversation. You shouldn't be doing all the talking or listening. It should be an even exchange.

Mr. Grey rose to his feet signaling the end of our meeting. I followed suit, extended my hand, and smiled at him a bit self-consciously.

His hand was warm, a bit calloused, but other than that, there hadn't been any kind of spark of excited electricity between us. He walked me to the door, said he'd be in touch, and that was the last I spoke to Christian Grey until I started my first official day at work.

What seemed so long ago in theory only took place less than a year ago.

"Good morning, Cheryl," I greeted slave master number one.

Cheryl was pecking away on her keyboard, wireless ear piece lodged in her ear. She paused long enough to offer a watered down smile. "Good morning, Bonnie."

I saw that her eyes wondered over to check the time on her phone.

_No bitch I'm not late and I'm not living up to the stereotype that black people are never on time._

I held my smile in place as I walked to my home away from home. I locked my purse in the bottom compartment of my wraparound desk, and then stored my portfolio underneath. I withdrew the pile of folders I had been working on the day before, and signed into my system.

I could hear Dakota's voice wafting from Christian's office. Her tone was high-pitched and cheery. It grated on my nerves.

"Right away, Mr. Grey. I'll get right on it," Dakota reassured and I already knew what that meant.

It was code for: I'll have Bonnie do it and then take all the credit.

I sighed and opened up Outlook and began trolling through emails. I trashed anything that resembled spam, and then highlighted the ones which looked important and were priority.

I smelled Dakota long before she reached my desk. I ignored her for as long as I could.

Slave master number two had arrived. I glanced up from my desktop. "Good morning, Dakota."

"Morning, Bonnie. After you're settled in I need to see you at my desk."

Cheryl stood up so she could be seen over the high walls of her cube. "Bonnie, Mr. Grey needs you in his office."

Dakota and I shared a look with one another. In that moment we all became kids whose parents just arrived home while we were in throes of a wild house party. I quickly grabbed my iPad, cursing that I didn't boot the stupid thing up as soon as I got in. I walked around Dakota who was fast on my heels. Her perfume made my nose itch and my eyes water. I had to stifle a sneeze.

"Don't forget I need to see you as soon as you're done with Mr. Grey."

"Okay, Dakota," I tried to keep the exasperation out of my voice. It was way too early for her to work my nerves.

As protocol I knocked on Mr. Grey's door. I couldn't just walk in even if I knew he was expecting me. By the time it took me to make it from my desk to his office, he could be on the phone. Someone was always calling him, though it was part of my responsibility to field his calls. That was actually split between all three assistants, but it never escaped me that Cheryl and Dakota had a habit of routing incoming calls to my queue.

"Enter," Mr. Grey's cool voice said from the other side.

I pushed the heavy door open with the palm of my hand. Mr. Grey was pacing behind his desk, playing with a stress ball.

I stood approximately five and a half feet away from his desk. He was a stickler for obeying the rules of personal space.

Christian was in his usual uniform of gray trousers and a light-blue button down. He never wore the sleeves rolled to his elbows like most men do as a way to make themselves more comfortable. And his shirt was buttoned all the way to the top. His tie matched the color of his pants, no design, no frills.

"Get back to me with those figures, Taylor," Mr. Grey hung up without uttering thank you or goodbye. Something he was notorious for and something I thought was plain rude.

Mr. Grey braced his hands on the back of his executive style chair. His eyes naturally took a minute to observe my outfit. He gave an imperceptible nod of his head that he approved. I had earned my gold star for the day.

"My brother will be in town for a convention next Wednesday. I need dinner reservations at the least revolting restaurant downtown, no later than seven, and I want my meal prepared and on the table by the time I arrive. You know what I like."

"Yes, sir," I jotted this down and nodded as if I were arranging a helicopter drop of food into the heart of Sudan.

"The Heart Association gala is coming up, and we have a table at the event. I need you to spear head that."

My eyes shot up when that request tumbled from his lips. Working the table at any event always fell to the second assistant whose job it was to introduce company products to generate more business. It didn't seem all that important, but it was a big deal for the second assistant.

"Will I be assisting Dakota…?"

"No," Mr. Grey interrupted. "Dakota will be working on another project the night of the gala. You are to dress appropriately for the event. Deep red would be fitting since it is the Heart Association and red is its signature color. If you have nothing suitable for the event, you may use the corporate card to purchase a gown befitting the company's standards."

My head was definitely spinning.

"Is there a budget I should adhere to?" I swallowed thickly.

"No, Miss Bennett. There is no budget. Might I make a suggestion?"

"Of course," I said that knowing he was going to tell me what he thought regardless if he had my permission or not.

"Something strapless with a sweetheart neckline would be best. If you go that route, your hair is to be up, but no ponytail."

I blinked and nodded. Styling tips from my boss. This wouldn't be so weird if this were the fashion world. Was it legal for him to tell me how to dress at a company event?

"And your lips," his eyes dropped to my mouth and they darkened a bit before resuming their indifferent gaze. "Should be blood red."

My cheeks were going to be blood red if I wasn't dismissed from his office in the next two seconds.

"That's all," he said and then intercepted another call.

I didn't move until he turned his back to me and faced the floor-to-ceiling windows. Leaving his office, I made tracks back to my desk. I felt the penetrating eyeballs of The Blondes on me. I had been in Christian's office longer than usual. They had enough tact not to diverge on me like flies at a cookout to put their noses where they didn't belong.

Sitting down in my leather chair, my text message alert went off on my phone. Cheryl perked her head up searching for the source of the interruption. She swiveled in her chair to face me. Her washed out blue eyes narrowed slightly.

I opened up the message and rolled my eyes after seeing who it was from.

_**Dinner?**_

I dropped my phone, actually placed it on vibrate and face down on the desk and tried to organize my workload. About ten minutes later it vibrated like Tickle Me Elmo.

Sighing, I opened up yet another text message.

_**I can cook your favorite.**_

In my purse my phone went.

"You know you're not allowed to conduct personal business during operational hours, Bonnie."

I was proud of the fact I didn't jump out of my skin at the sound of Cheryl's voice. She had soundlessly arrived outside of my cube. I know she was not standing in front of me frontin' like she didn't call her husband when there was a lapse in work, and talked a hole in the man's head on how to prepare baked zucchini. But what could I say? She was my supervisor and ran a tight ship. She adhered to Mr. Grey's often rigorous and unforgiving rules and regulations and did everything to his exact specifications. She had seniority whereas I was still the new kid on the block. Mr. Grey never made it a secret that he valued Cheryl's opinion, and took her recommendations like it was scripture.

I had to be careful in how I addressed her. I could get away with a sassy comment here and there when dealing with Dakota, but with Cheryl I had to be Miss Bonnie Sue extraordinaire.

"Thank you for the reminder, Mrs. Prescott."

Cheryl didn't like to be addressed by her married name. I don't know why. Probably because she envisioned herself as Mrs. Christian Grey while working. She curtly nodded her head and then shuffled back to her cube.

My phone vibrated again and I retrieved it out of my purse.

_**I want to see you Bonnie.**_

He could be relentless, but I just didn't have time to deal with Damon and his foolishness. It was time I changed my number again. I still had no idea how he got my new cell phone number. Probably got it from that stupid brother of his. Stefan had wanted to remain in touch, and check up on me from time to time. He promised he wouldn't give my number to his brother. Harrumph. Never trust a cute face and smile.

I dropped my phone in my purse determined not to give Damon another thought for the next eight and a half hours. And I almost achieved that goal. Almost.

* * *

Nothing moved people out of the office faster than the promise of happy hour. As soon as the clock struck five there was a grand exodus from the businesses that lined Buckley Avenue where I worked. I stood in a mob waiting for the appropriate bus to arrive and whisk me back to my part of the city. Naturally I couldn't help but inconspicuously and conspicuously stretch my neck to and fro hoping to catch a sighting of Erik Mauer, but alas my bus arrived, I boarded and sat next to a man who was in desperate need of a shower.

The second I was locked behind the door of my apartment, after juggling my keys, mail, with my phone pressed between my shoulder and cheek, I dropped everything, undressed in half a minute and jumped in the shower. By the time I was done, someone was pounding on my door with enough force to break it down.

Haphazardly wrapping my chenille towel around myself, I didn't bother to look out the peephole before I tossed the door open. Draped along the doorframe was my best friend and original vampire—Rebekah Mikaelson.

Her eyes trailed over me scornfully. "You're not dressed. Why am I not surprised?"

"Well, excuse me but some of us don't move at the speed of light. I only need half an hour."

"A half an hour to pussyfoot around to decide on what you're going to wear. Then it'll take you another hour to actually dress, get your makeup on, and then you'll complain about being hungry. I don't know what's with you humans and needing to eat every three hours or so. You won't exactly drop dead if you skip a meal."

I could always count on Rebekah for her sensitivity. Nevertheless, she broke out a bottle of champagne, and made herself more than comfortable in my house.

I stood in my closet agonizing on what to wear. The club where we were going was called _Club Lamia_, which was just a fancy way of saying Club Vampire. Seattle Lake, like my hometown Mystic Falls had its supernatural underbelly, but it was very hush-hush, and for many reasons. Some political, others monetary, but mostly because of the danger it posed.

_Club Lamia_ was owned and operated by a vampire named Marcel who I found out not too long ago was a branch off the Niklaus Mikaelson blood tree. Normally I tried to distance myself from anything involving the Mikaelson's, other than Bex of course, but Marcel thankfully was nothing like the patriarch of his bloodline. Marcel was charming, handsome, intelligent, handsome, enigmatic, did I mention handsome? Toffee colored skin, chestnut eyes, impeccable hygiene, a body that would make a goddess drool, and he had the sexiest voice it was like molasses being poured on ice cream. Yum. But the best part of him…dimples! Ooh Shaka Zulu.

Stepping out of my closet with my outfit of choice, I found Rebekah stretched across my bed flipping through a magazine. She scrunched up her nose, looked at me, and accused me of jilling myself earlier. So what? I was entitled.

Note to self: change the sheets.

"I might be immortal but I can still age and I'm growing older by the second, Bonnie," her British accent tickled my ears. "Move faster."

"What's with the rush?" I asked. "You're never anxious to go out. Is someone meeting you at _Lamia?"_

Rebekah Mikaelson hardly blushed, and she wasn't right now, but her eyes did shift a bit. Rebekah and I had been friends for the last six or seven years. Our friendship wasn't built out of the back of acrimony as it can be between vamps and witches. She didn't save me and I didn't promise her my servitude to pay off that debt. Rebekah had been having a hard time making friends, and I seemed to be losing friendship loyalty like a ship with a whole in it. I had bitten off more than I could chew, but Rebekah for whatever reason took the initiative and talked me off the ledge before I officially burned myself out.

As they say the rest is history. She was there when I needed to vent, there when I needed to cry, there when I needed to laugh, and of course she made herself scarce when I needed a conjugal visit from Damon. I helped her rebuild her self-esteem because it had been trampled and crushed ample times by her family—brothers in particular. We just needed each other and since then, our sisterhood was forged.

I'd do anything for Rebekah so long as it was legal and didn't upset the nature of balance of course. And she promised to rough up any knucklehead who thought he could manhandle me into submission. When I would make my spell runs, she'd ride shotgun to make sure the transaction ran smoothly and according to plan. Being one of the first American vampires, that gave Rebekah clout others tried to pay for or earn through blood. Copious amounts of blood.

Of course we hit snags along the way. No relationship, no matter how amorous or platonic wasn't without complications and problems. But the beauty between us broads was, we were able to work out our problems because our rule of thumb was: no grudges, no secrets, no lies.

Naturally that meant we simply didn't tell each other everything and there were omissions here and there.

The blonde vampire sat up in my bed, and brushed imaginary dirt off her expensive threads. "No, I'm not meeting anyone, but the possibility of meeting someone is always there. I just want to get a move on that's all."

I stared at her, contemplating, and then let it go.

About an hour later, I stepped out of Rebekah Mikaelson's German's whip, placing one hot pink platform stiletto on the ground followed by the other. It took some creative maneuvering to get out of the damn car simply because my dress—designed by Zac Posen—covered my bits and left everything else exposed. Black was traditionally the color of the night on Friday's but I always added a splash of color either through my footwork, purse, or jewelry.

I waited on the sidewalk, adjusting my tight skirt as Rebekah got a ticket from the valet who couldn't keep his eyes off…well her. Rebekah's stereotypically beautiful with blonde-hair and blue eyes with lips that rivaled Angelina Jolie's, and a curvaceous body that a starving artist could feast on for days. Creatively speaking, that is.

On her right index finger was a black dahlia ring. I bore a ring similar to hers that I wore on my left index finger. Those rings were important because they identified us as being "royalty" meaning we hailed from the oldest of bloodlines. And it also meant we got in for free. Major plus. I only wore mine when I wanted to experience the night life otherwise it stayed in the jewelry box.

Flashing our rings at the bouncer guarding the front door, we were quickly ushered inside the club. I should amend that. _Club Lamia_ wasn't a club per se, it was a converted warehouse that was partly a museum.

The place wasn't overly packed once we made it inside. The lighting was kept low and I could never get over the fact that every time I came here I felt like I was visiting a mausoleum at night. Perhaps that was intentional.

Rebekah leaned over to yell in my ear. The music was deafening. "I'm parched. How bout we have ourselves a drink?"

"After you."

Rebekah led the way through the milling crowd over to the bar area that was truly the only spot that was properly lit. One of my favorite bartenders was working tonight, Felix. I winked at him and he winked right back and held up a finger asking me to wait one second and he would take care of me.

"Cinderella, if it isn't you," said a deceptively masculine voice I might have had a few explicit dreams about.

Pivoting in my heels, I looked to my right and approaching was Mr. Entrepreneur himself, Marcel. Draped in all black, smiling wide and showing me his perfect teeth, the scent of his cologne greeted me five seconds before his muscular arms were wrapping around my body.

I pulled back thankful for the low lighting in the club or he would have seen me blushing. Marcel, Marcel, Marcel!

Because he was assaulting my eyes with his beauty, I overlooked the fact he called me Cinderella. It was a running joke between us. Marcel knew that during my teen years I could be found cleaning up the messes of those around me without getting so much as a thank you at the end of the day. He tried to lure me to his side, but I was married and Damon wasn't having it.

"Hey, Marcel," I muttered disinterestedly. The key was to play anything but interested. "Nice turn out tonight."

Marcel looked around, jiggling the ice cubes in his drink while bobbing his head in time with the music. "Now the real fun can begin now that you're here." He leaned a little to the left of me to lock eyes with Rebekah who was holding up the bar looking unfazed by everything. "What's up, Bex? You can't speak?"

Rebekah's eyes traveled heavenward before they zeroed in on Marcel. "Oh, sorry I thought you were Gary Coleman," she smiled and then accepted her drink. "I'll be over there, Bonnie," she walked to the far side of the club.

Marcel shook his head before looking at me once again. "You might want to consider finding yourself a new roll partner."

I dismissed his suggestion with a wave of my hand. "Rebekah is harmless…when she's sleeping, but she's good people and I trust her. Trust isn't synonymous between vampires and witches."

"It could be. We could change that," his bedroom eyes twinkled at me and he had the nerve to bite his bottom lip.

I snapped my head at Felix and banged my hand on the bar. "Where's my drink?" My mouth was dry but the beginnings of a flood were happening below my equator line.

Just as I was fully prepared to continue getting my flirt on, one of Marcel's employees came over and whispered something in his ear. Marcel nodded, whispered something back, and then turned to me with an apologetic look in his eyes. Inwardly, I pouted.

"I'm going to have to catch up with you later, Cinderella. How long are you hanging tonight?"

I shrugged. "I rode with Bex so whenever she's ready to leave that's when I'm splitting. Why?"

"I renovated upstairs and I want to give you a personal and private tour," he smirked.

What I heard was I got a box full of condoms and I want to use them on you. Clearing my throat, I smiled and then accepted my drink from Felix who looked a little chagrined since I snapped at him earlier. He's a big boy. He'll get over it.

"Just find me later," I said and then flitted off to go hold up the wall with Rebekah.

Ever since I met Marcel about two or three years ago, we kept saying we would have angry sex one of these days. At least that's what our eyes kept saying, but the words never explicitly left either of our lips. In truth, I wanted to go there with him but I was afraid _for_ him. Let me explain, Damon, my ex who ruins everything, somehow, someway always found out my business. If word got back to him that Marcel and I boned, Damon would nix that problem by killing Marcel. Now I'm not exactly sure when Marcel was turned, but I think he probably has a good twenty-five to fifty years on Damon, but when Damon wanted someone dead they would be dead.

Marcel was just too pretty to die and yeah that might make me sound shallow, but honestly he was a good guy from what I had seen. There were rumors surrounding him of course that painted him in a much different and horrific light, but rumors, heresy, and misinformation circulated everyone. People thought I was the reincarnation of my ancestor Qetsiyah who was "rumored" to be a goddess. See what I mean?

Joining Bex we tapped our glasses together. She was being usually quiet. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine. I guess I wasn't in as big a mood to party as I thought. I just need some alcohol and good old-fashioned blood in my system then I'll be all right." She looked at me then. "You're going to fuck him aren't you?"

Well, if that wasn't blunt. "If I were do you have a problem with it? I know you don't like Marcel for whatever reason."

"It's not that I don't like him, I don't like the image he's trying to project. But I don't want to destroy your fantasy about Marcel so I'm tightening up my lips." Pause. "Elena called me the other day."

Now it was time for me to roll _my _eyes. "I don't want to hear it, Bex." So that's why she had been looking pitiful.

Rebekah's arms fell to her sides in defeat. She sort of stuck herself in the middle of my ongoing feud with Elena that started about four years ago. Rebekah tried to play the role of peacekeeper but there was no peace to be kept. Elena tried to fuck my husband. Friendship—caput—and there was no changing it.

"She really misses you, Bonnie. Every time I return home for a visit she always asks about you. If you could just talk to her, smooth things over…"

"Look," I said sharply. "She broke the girl code and I have nothing further to say to her. And I can't believe you're playing her devil's advocate just because the two of you were besties for three weeks when the bitch turned off her humanity. She knew what she attempted to do would hurt me. She _knew _that. She drugged my husband, stripped him naked, and climbed into bed with him. I got home just in time. Elena's lucky she still has her life."

"Okay," Rebekah hedged. "I understand, but you and she were friends for far longer than you were with Damon. And it's funny that after all this time you're still referring to him as your _husband_. I thought he was a maggot."

"He _is_ a maggot. But wrong is wrong," I took a huge gulp of my drink and it traveled up to my head instead of going down to my stomach.

"I didn't mean to make you upset with this, and I know you don't care or at the least you act like you don't, but she's been having such a hard time with Jeremy being gone, and Stefan…"

"Leave my _ex-_husband's brother out of it, too. Damon wasn't the only person I divorced myself from. I want to have a good time tonight. I don't want to think about or talk about my old life or anyone in it from Mystic Falls. Are we clear, chica?"

Rebekah nodded.

"Good," I nodded my head fully inclined to get lost in the crowd that was a mix of vampires, werewolves, witches, a couple of succubus' and incubi—yeah found out they existed as well.

Finishing off my drink, my eyes looked to the entrance for whatever reason, and I shook my head. You talk about the devil long enough you're liable to summon him.

That's exactly what happened as I eyed my ex with disdain who speared me with his silver-blue gaze.

There was a dress code at _Club Lamia_. No jeans, no sneakers, and Damon being the rebel that he was, didn't adhere to it. He was attired in a form fitting pair of dark denim jeans and a black T-shirt that looked painted on. The bastard. More than likely he probably snapped the bouncer's neck who took one look at him and said he couldn't come inside, and that's how he made it past the front door.

Time did that annoying thing were it slowed down, and I was that wide-eyed seventeen year old girl again, and he was that vampire who was supposed to protect my family.

Damon stood there blocking the entrance while staring at me, sizing me up, picking me apart. His eyes roamed over my frame, and I had to force myself not to model for him like I was Kiki Shepard. I watched as his eyes crinkled at the corners and I couldn't tell if he approved or not of my outfit which was tight and sheer in all the right places in my humble opinion.

I refused to be the one to look away first, and when the right side of his lips pulled upward in a smirk, my nostrils flared. Damon didn't exactly have dimples (I know I have a fixation leave me be) but a line in the shape of a crescent moon usually formed next to his lip whenever he smirked. Yes, it was sexy as all hell and had been my undoing for most of our courtship and marriage. Plenty of times I had to talk myself out of saying he was the perfect package. He. Was. Not. He had flaws and baggage he toted around in Gucci cases. But, damn it he was my kryptonite.

From where I was standing it looked like my hus—ex had been hitting the gym. His biceps were bulging, his pectorals looked like they were chiseled from the highest grade Italian marble you could find, and his ink black hair was disheveled but did nothing to distract from his preternaturally timeless face. Ooh, I hate him!

Three months was the longest we've gone without seeing each other. Instant replays of our last tryst played over in my mind. Me riding him, him hitting it from the back, his head between my legs, my head between his, cum all over the freaking place…

Okay, I brought my glass up to my mouth only to remember it was empty.

Damon didn't approach me. Instead he headed over to the bar where my eyes followed him there.

"You were saying about him being a maggot?" Rebekah whispered in my ear.

I frowned. "I need a refill."

"I'll get it. You stay right there," Rebekah snatched my empty glass and was already standing at the bar before I could make a sound or noise of complaint.

I needed something to do to distract myself. So I began to admire the artwork hanging on the walls. Like I said this was more of a museum rather than a traditional club. Repeatedly I told myself to just carry on with my business, forget the fact that the last man I saw naked was my ex who was currently ordering drinks at the bar and probably flirting outrageously with everyone in sight. When Damon was around it was like the energy and noise cranked up and soon that's all I could focus on were the laughs coming from the bar area.

Rebekah was back handing me some pink, fruity looking concoction. I pursed my lips. Girly drinks were cool if you were having brunch with friends or you were simply at a get together. I craved hard liquor, but I sipped my drink daintily, and then soon found myself engaged in conversation with were-twins who were cute and funny, but much too young for my blood. Anything less than a hundred years old really held no appeal to me.

Two hours may have gone by and I had done several revolutions around the club, gone to the bathroom twice, ate a plate of hot wings, danced but a little stiffly. My dress was way too tight for me to drop it low like I usually do.

I might have been starting on my sixth or seventh drink when He Who Shall Not Be Named was standing right behind me, talking breathily in my ear.

"You've had enough, Judgy."

I screwed my eyes shut. I was close to inebriation and this mofo wanted to come over and mess with me knowing I was at my most sensitive. Damon learned a long time ago that alcohol didn't just make me a sloppy, stumbling mess, it made me want to fuck like a porn star, and he was going to try to capitalize on that and I was drunk enough to let him.

Already my kitty was purring because she sensed its mate was nearby. The pulse in my neck was beating in time with the one in my love below.

"Monitoring my alcohol consumption, how thoughtful," I said with a sarcastic edge. "I'm fine, Eyeballs Magee," I wobbled a bit but that's only because my shoes had cut off the circulation to my toes about as soon as I put them on, and my feet were numb.

"Really? I doubt you can walk in a straight line. Let alone recite the alphabet."

Not turning around to glare at him was hard, but I was proud I didn't listen to my gut instinct to put him back in his place.

"You need to go home and sleep it off," he suggested.

I was pissed. "Hell no! Stop telling me what to do, Damon. We're not married anymore."

He grew quiet then and I hoped he would walk away. Instead he had to wrap his beefy arm around my waist, and pull me flush against his chest so I could feel _all _of him.

Nope, nope, nope don't you dare moan, don't moan, okay you're moaning. My inner consciousness threw her hands up in defeat.

"That's my girl," I could hear the smile in his voice.

"I'm not your girl, your boo, your wifey, your anything. Let me go, please."

"Ah, nope," he started swaying us to the music.

I growled. "You were having a good time over there with your fangirls and boys and I suggest you go back to them."

"Keeping tabs on me, witch. You can keep more than that on me. I'm open to anything."

"Except hearing the truth about yourself apparently."

Damon nuzzled my cheek with his. "I miss you. Come home."

"Ah, nope," I repeated his earlier words.

He snorted. "Then let _me _come home."

I blinked.

I knew exactly what he was referring to. I bit the bullet and craned my neck backwards to stare up at him. His gaze was nothing less than sharp, piercing, and intense. I gulped thickly and I didn't need to flex my psychic muscle to know what he was implying.

Instead of acquiescing I decided to go with angry drunk woman.

"Is that all I am to you, Damon! Your booty call? Your jump off?"

He was furious because his smoldering eyes became chips of ice, better yet nitrogen oxide. I was literally being frozen alive.

"You know the things I can do to you and you want to try my patience. Not a smart move, little bird," he spun me around to face him. "You can try to erect the Wall of China between us, Bonnie but I know that no matter what comes out of your fucking mouth, you still love my ass," he took my hand and literally made me grab his ass.

Oh, wow, I missed that.

"And you still want this," he made me cup him next.

How was it that I wasn't a puddle of goo on the floor?

"What the hell is going on?" Rebekah demanded as she literally caught me with my hand in the…junk.

"Barbie Klaus! Good to see you now buzz off. I'm just talking to my _wife_."

"Yes, well I'm sure the state of Virginia would disagree with you on that, mate. Bonnie wants nothing to do with you and if you want to keep all your teeth that's currently in your head, I suggest you let her go."

Damon laughed. "Still mad because I didn't want your silly little ass, I see."

Rebekah's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Hold up," I managed to wiggle myself free of Damon and approached Rebekah who looked ready to snatch him bald. "Just give us a minute, Bex, okay?"

Rebekah flicked her eyes to me before glaring at Damon again. She muttered something incoherently before walking away.

Before I turned to face my hus—ex again, I took a deep breath and then turned. Damon started speaking to me in Italian and I could have sworn he was putting me under a spell.

"…_dea del sesso…"_

The buzz in my body traveled to my head and settled in my ears. "Stop talking."

"_Mi portafortuna…"_ he pulled me close to him again.

"Shut up, I said."

"_Figa deliziosa…" _his breath tickled my cheek, a whisper of a promise of that breath tickling a much more sensitive part of my body.

Something inside of me detonated. It felt like an alien burst out of the center of my chest and was wailing for a hit of milk or whatever it was those slimy, ugly things ate.

Oh, God I wanted him but there were too many people standing around to witness another grown woman falling to the power of the dick.

I managed to push Damon away and glowered whereas he smiled looking remarkably cool.

"I said the last time was the last time," were those song lyrics?

Damon shrugged and dragged his finger over my bottom lip. "You said a lot of things you didn't mean, but that never stopped you from taking action."

I shook my head. "We can't keep doing this, Damon. You want us to get back together..."

"You want that, too you're just being too stubborn to acknowledge it, as usual. I know you're not seeing anyone. You don't have a profile up on eHarmony," he chuckled.

I propped a hand on my hip. There would be no need to ask how he knew; he just made it his business to know my business. With the copy of papers that dissolved our marriage and the fact I moved from one coast to the next just to get away from his crazy ass, Damon followed me determined to win me back.

We had already slipped up about half a dozen times since our divorce was finalized. And if I kept giving in, letting him clean my pipes because I hadn't been able to find anyone to take his place, my actions were basically saying I was willing to give him another shot, he just had to keep trying. I had to be strong and stand my ground. Where was Marcel? Where the hell did Rebekah scurry off to?

Damon slipped his fingers between mine. Hot and cold, fire and ice, lighting and electricity. That's what I felt.

I was so annoyed.

"I need to go the bathroom," I snatched my hand away and bulldozed through the crowd.

Locating Rebekah, I hauled her original ass into the bathroom, locking us into a tiny stall. A few people started snickering and cat-calling.

"Remind me of all the reasons why I hate Damon," I wheezed.

"Glad to…" she opened her mouth wider to continue and I listened, or at least I think I was listening. By the time she was done, we left the bathroom. Rebekah went off to get another round of drinks started, and I found Damon holding up the wall near the exit.

"Last time," I said, grabbed his shirt and pulled him behind me as we spilled out of the club.

Several women's heads nearly twisted off their necks the minute their eyes landed on Damon, but he ignored the attention, instead captured my hand and led me across the street where his Lamborghini was illegally parked.

Damon didn't allow me to fold into the bucket seat, not without kissing me senseless or more accurately into remembrance in how we used to be. His mouth made love to mine and the inferno burning between my thighs was close to singeing my clothes right off my body.

"I fucking love the taste of your mouth," he groaned and squeezed my ass.

Butterflies raced around my stomach, but I said nothing. Had to do the cute girl thing in trying to get into his car that sat so damn low to the ground in sky high heels and a too tight skirt, so it took a while, but I managed. Once I was in, Damon had closed the door and was seated behind the wheel while I was still in the process of putting on my seat belt.

Throttling the engine, Damon tore off down the street to my apartment complex. He slowed down when we hit the highway, but his hand found its resting place on my thigh, slightly rubbing it and squeezing it.

"Did you know I would be at _Lamia_?" I asked.

"I may have followed your scent after you ignored my texts," he looked at me, glaring slightly. "Naughty girl. You know you can't hide from me."

"Unfortunately," I grumbled. "Do you really think anything is going to come from the two of us periodically screwing around?"

Damon focused his eyes back on the road. "I make love to you, Bonnie. Always have and always will. Why? Because I love ya," he smiled.

Shaking my head, I looked out the window. "Love wasn't enough to save our marriage."

The leather steering wheel protested because Damon was gripping it so hard. "You didn't give me a chance to fix shit. I made one _tiny _mistake and now you're resigned to punish me for it."

"Tiny mistake?" my nostrils flared. "You killed an entire coven of witches, Damon!"

Getting into an argument about one of the reasons why I wanted out of our marriage when the only thing I wanted to do was get my feet wet was the definition of being counterproductive.

"They were going to kill you! You were my wife! I did what I had to and I'm not apologizing for it. Fuck them!"

"Oh, fuck them you did all the way into a grave. Neat."

Solar flares erupted out of his glacial eyes, but Damon said nothing which was so surprising that I actually gasped. He had a retort for _everything. _I couldn't even comment on the weather without him putting in his two assholish cents.

The tick working overtime in jaw let me know how difficult it was for him to keep quiet. Hmm. Maybe he was trying to change.

"This isn't you," I remarked. "Where's the Damon who loves having the last word? Who loves making a quip about people's shortcomings? Where the hell is he?" I leaned over the console and pushed up his shirt, gulping a bit because of his washboard stomach. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

Focus, woman.

"No, he's not under there," I said, and then pulled down the collar of his shirt. "Not there either," I fooled around in his hair, "not hiding in that bird's nest either."

"You haven't checked my fly," he wiggled his eyebrows.

"I doubt he's hiding down there, but I'll bite."

"Please do, you know I like it when you use your teeth."

Okay, this was getting off track or maybe it was getting back on the right track. My hand slid up his denim covered thigh and cupped his manhood behind the fly.

My mouth was dry and drooling in equal measure. "I might let you into my bed, Damon doesn't mean I'm letting you back into my heart again."

Damon had pulled up to my apartment complex. He cut the engine and then once again arrested me with those eyes.

He reached over and flicked his thumb over my erect nipple. "We'll see about that."

To be continued.

**A/N: Please don't be mad because I'm cutting this off at the good part, but what I have in mind for the next installment is…well…its Bamon at its finest! And will feature them predominately. Oh, and if you've read any of LJ's Nigtworld series I did kind of pay homage to it with the rings Bex and Bonnie were wearing and the name of the club. But that's all I'm going to borrow from that series (I think). Hope you liked it. Until next time, love you!**


	3. A Nice Familiar Place

**A/N: Hi people! I'm glad you're still enjoying this story, and THANK YOU so much for the reviews! I had this long A/N written, but I've had to defend my stories so many times that now its just redundant. This is the vision of Bonnie I have in my head and yes she actually acknowledges she's a sexual person, but that doesn't mean she's going to be out there, and if she were after all the HELL she's gone through on the show, let the chick let her hair down. **

**To everyone else who's here for Bonnie/Bamon goodness please proceed.**

***Warning* Graphic erotica ahead.**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Our marriage might have been dissolved, but it wasn't the same for our attraction to one another. There were something's a piece of paper couldn't get rid of. Couldn't destroy. Something's simply wouldn't fade away no matter how hard you willed or tried to pray for it to leave you alone. They just were. Fixed. Obstinate. Connected forever. Inseparable.

That had been us at one point.

When Damon touched me I felt nothing but heat. When he kissed me…well everything about me was aroused. He stroked my embers, fanned the flames, made me forget whatever it was that stressed me out, or scared me, or intimidated me, or pissed me off. He got me in ways I didn't comprehend, saw things that those around me missed. Damon had been a part of me.

What I learned in being married is that marriage wasn't a solution to fixing your problems. Whatever was broken or out of sync before you said "I do" would remain that way. I knew what I was getting myself into when I recited my vows. I knew what being tethered to this vampire would symbolize. It wasn't a situation I went into blind and hoped for the best. I had seen the warning signs, paid attention to the red flags, and proceeded with caution.

In the beginning things were great, better than great, everything was borderline perfect. For us. Yes, he got on my nerves and I got on his. Marriage wasn't that big of an adjustment for us. We just went from referring to one another as boyfriend and girlfriend to: this is my husband, this is my wife. My name changed, but not my attitude, not the love I had in my heart for this man. And Damon had remained the same.

But little by little things _did _begin to change.

It was all subtle at first. Damon was a worry wart but he wouldn't make it easy on himself by saying he was worried. He would just blow up your phone until you answered, or he came looking for you. When he found you he ripped you a new one. That was his way. He liked being in control. Liked to be able to pick up a specific chess piece and move it where he wanted it to go. If he couldn't find that chess piece he became neurotic—well more than usual. At first I thought it was, well I wouldn't call it sweet, but it was nice for someone to worry about _me_ for a change. With the help of my grandmother I practically raised myself, and I took on the job of looking after my friends, so to drop that shield, to take off that hat was a relief when things became official between Damon and I.

I didn't expect that to change, but then he would pick fights with me so I _wouldn't _leave the house. Things were always bad in Mystic Falls and though I had given him plenty of examples that I was capable of protecting myself, it wasn't other vampires and werewolves he was afraid would do me in, but other witches.

I'll admit, my ex had plenty of reasons to be worried about that. Not all witches were like me. Understanding to a certain degree, open-minded when the situation called for it, and tried to make sure the balance wasn't interrupted. There were witches out there that were just as ruthless as vampires who craved power. Every few years a coven or nomad witch or warlock would find themselves stumbling into our backyard. Nothing was sacred to those witches or warlocks. If you weren't for them, you were against them, and that sanctioned your death.

After a while, Damon didn't want me to practice magic. He felt every time I cast a spell I was painting a huge target on my back. His paranoia was at its highest after our multiple and failed attempts to kill Klaus Mikaelson. But the brakes was put on that the second we discovered that if you killed an Original their entire bloodline was wiped off the face of the earth. When we learned that Klaus was the "father" of Damon's line, we really ceased and desisted.

Life didn't get any easier. It got progressively harder punctuated with quiet moments where we could sneak off, travel, get lost in the world. That's when I would get my husband back. The easy going Damon Salvatore who made it his mission to make sure the smile never left my face. But his demeanor would change when we returned home.

He would become sullen, a little withdrawn, and closed off. His drinking would increase where he'd clean out at least five bottles a day. He'd snap at everyone for any little thing. It was hard living with Damon when he was like that. But I grit and bore it because I wasn't one to throw in the towel simply because things were hard.

Events leading up to the culmination of our divorce weren't something I exactly relished in revisiting. I couldn't place the entire blame on Damon's shoulders because I could be just as pig-headed, if not more, than him. I wanted things he couldn't give me. I fought with him when I didn't have to; let him walk over me when I should have stood up my ground. I withheld sex to modify his behavior, which backfired. Spread our relationship woes to Rebekah unintentionally dragging her into our mess, making things even messier. I would look at him as if I hated him, but I never really hated _him_ just the idiotic things he chose to do. I'd shut him out when he wanted me to talk to him. What could I say? Old habits died hard.

I wasn't the perfect wife. Damon wasn't the perfect husband. We tried, gave it our best shot, and now all we had to show for it were these drunken sexual trysts.

My eyes traversed over to him. Damon was staring at the pictures that decorated my fireplace mantle while I rummaged around in the kitchen to fix myself a glass of water.

The truth of the matter was I didn't want him in my apartment. I was determined to get the D, yes—we've gone through this much trouble to ditch Rebekah at the club, (shit I need to call her), and opened up old wounds, might as well see it out to its titillating end.

The second we walked through the atrium of my building, I wanted to take Damon down to the laundry room in the basement. Yet my dress, the tight motherfucker, if Damon tried to cinch it around my waist it would cleave me in two. So that meant it had to come off. And sorry, horny I might be, exhibitionist, I wasn't.

Up the elevator we traveled, got off on the seventh floor, exited going to the right, walked two doors down, and here we were.

Pouring water into a glass, I took a generous sip and kept my eyes focused on Damon.

"Who the hell is this?" he picked up a frame and I wondered if he warped it with his Kung-Fu grip.

Taking my time, I strolled over to my ex-hubby and peeped over his shoulder.

"Oh, that' s Pogue…Pogue Parry. Works in IT at my job and…he's a warlock."

Damon was scowling. The photo was an innocent snapshot of several co-workers having a drink during happy hour. Pogue and I just happened to be sitting next to each other at the table when Amy wanted to take a picture. Mr. Parry was _very _easy on the eyes. Had plenty of women at CGI fanning themselves whenever he strolled past to do his routine systems check, and was rumored to be involved with at least two secretaries and a top-level executive. Don't ask me, I don't know, but he was a good drinking buddy, and someone to talk magic with from time to time. That was the extent of our friendship.

"Did his hand have to be so low around your waist?" Damon pointed at said hand. "He's practically grabbing your ass."

"No, he's not," I wrestled the frame from him and put it back where it belonged. In the rest of the frames were pictures of me with Rebekah, my dad, my lady friends from work: Demeter, Artemis, Svetlana, and Amy, and a couple of girlfriends from college.

"There was a picture of me up here the last time I stopped by for a visit," his smile was lascivious.

I sighed and drank a sip of water. "It may have accidentally fallen into the fireplace while it was lit."

A soft growl emitted from his rose pink lips. I winked and returned to the kitchen to pour another glass of water. Alcohol kind of dried me out and I didn't want a hangover in the morning.

"I still have that portrait of you…the one you had commissioned for my one-hundred and eightieth birthday. The one where you have rose petals strategically placed over your tits, twat, and ass. I look at it everyday, every morning, every night. Want to know what I'm doing when I'm staring at that portrait?"

There were just something's you shouldn't do for people. Including getting candid nudes of yourself done to present to your then boyfriend knowing it would drive him crazy to which he could blackmail you about later.

My stealthy ex-husband stood behind me in the kitchen, wrapping that meaty arm of his around me once again.

Damon rested his chin on my shoulder. "I stare at you draped over those rose petals with that rapturous look on your face and I say 'I have to do _whatever _it takes to get her back.' The idea of you doing something like that for someone else drives me up the fucking wall, Bonnie," he whispered heatedly.

Any other day that would have sounded awfully possessive, but there wasn't a possessive undertone in Damon's voice, just his adamant vehemence do whatever it took to reclaim my heart again.

"I've lost you once…I let you slip through my fingers…" he brushed those fingers through my hair.

"I'm my own woman, Damon. I wasn't happy so I left."

"You left because you were scared…of me."

That was partially true.

Damon let go of me and walked away.

Everyone with a decent pair of eyes would say that Damon was an emotional creature. He just didn't vocalize his emotions outside of anger and frustration. The only time he talked at length about how something made him feel it was only in reference to his disappointment. He'd let his guard down with me, but with everyone else there was always an impenetrable bubble surrounding him. It was his defense mechanism.

Strong, silent type he wasn't. Damon had a tendency to talk too much and that rubbed people, myself included the wrong way. But it was just how he was.

And because of the intensity of his emotions that made him volatile, impulsive, and vindictive. He hurt people before they could hurt him. I was not exempt from that.

Damon had moved over to my entertainment center. He started rifling through my CD collection. Stop laughing. Yes, I still bought CD's as well as downloaded music. I liked mixing a little bit of the old school with the new.

"Kem, Sade, or Kenny Lattimore?" my ex inquired.

I stretched my arms over my head. "Sade."

"Wine, champagne, or whipped cream?"

All my pink parts spiked with tension, became hard as bricks.

"Maybe all three," I said. "Later."

Soon a haunting voice wafted through my apartment. I massaged my neck as Sade's crooning voice made the hair follicles on my head stand on end and tingle.

"_Vieni qui,_ Bonnie. Come here."

Taking my glass of water with me, I reentered the living room. Damon was sitting in a black leather overstuffed chair that was next to the stone fireplace. I stood in front of him about a good seven feet away. His eyes undressed me and I watched as his hand cupped and then massaged his length through his jeans.

"Aren't you going to light some candles? Create a little ambiance?" Damon's eyes widened.

"No. I only use them for soul cleansing now. Do you need one? Do you even have a soul?"

His eyes morphed from powder blue into liquid mercury. "I do. And I'm looking right at it."

Okay, so that line may have earned him a slight blush.

"Get comfortable," he recommended still occasionally rubbing and squeezing his dick.

Well, all right, I bent my knee to slip my stiletto off, but Damon wagged his finger.

"Leave those on." He stood up and was standing before me within a single eye blink. Damon's hands cupped my cheeks and began to tilt my head backwards.

Our eyes connected like magnets. Damon really didn't need to use compulsion. The color and size of his eyes alone were enough to weaken any person's defense. I couldn't exactly remember the first thought I had about him when we were officially introduced when I was having dinner at Elena's. It had been her attempt to win me over to Stefan's side. Damon had showed up as Caroline's plus one, and at the time all I could remember was how awkward everything turned with him there.

I thought Damon was…like I told Caroline, sexy danger guy. In fact, I didn't trust him. He was too good-looking to be up to anything_ but_ good.

First impressions left lasting impressions and he really didn't impress me. Ha-ha. I knew the feeling was mutual.

But now, when he stared at me like that, with those eyes, and that softened yet predatory expression on his face, I felt out of sorts. I prided myself on being immune to him but at the end of the day I wasn't. All he had to do was look at me like he was right now.

Damon pecked my lips with his eyes open. I followed suit, not wanting to miss a thing. Another peck, then he took the plunge, sealed his mouth over mine, dove his tongue inside, and finally his eyes closed.

Several guttural moans escaped both our mouths as our tongues engaged in the oldest game in the world. Instinctively Damon's hands sought out the zipper to my dress, found it, and pulled that sucker down. Cold air hit my back while I tunneled my fingers through his pelt of raven hair. I tugged, brought him impossibly closer with my tongue lodged so deep in his mouth I'm sure I was cleaning his tonsils. We alternated between kissing, nibbling, and biting one another's lips that it didn't take long before there was zero traces of my lip stick left, and my poor lips were swollen.

_Both _sets.

My heart was beating rapidly, everything was heightened.

Damon carried me bridal style to my bedroom and lowered me to the bed instead of just hauling me on top of it. Moving at vampire speed, he was on top of me, kissing me breathless, licking me clean, and igniting every single square inch of my skin.

My fingernails raked his back as I ripped his tight T-shirt off. His pants came next, followed by his boots, and socks. He never wore underwear. It took the both of us to get me out of my dress. I hadn't been wearing a bra so the last thing to remove was my tiny scrap of underwear: a lacy G-string that left nothing to the imagination.

The pink stilettos were still on my feet.

"So fucking sexy," he bit his bottom lip, "_corpo provocante'_."

No, what was sexy was hearing Damon speak to me in Italian. He didn't do it often, but when he did it made me want him even more.

Automatically I spread my legs expecting Damon to get his eat on, but he stood at the edge of the bed, and wiggled his hips. I dropped my eyes to his impressive cock. Another gush of warmth filled my womb. I wrapped my hand around the shaft and tugged Damon closer, got myself into position, and then, cushioned the head between my lips.

Damon taught me everything I knew about sex. He was my first. The first person to touch my breasts, suck and tease my nipples until I came from tit play. Damon was the first person I allowed to look at my cat and use his fingers to bring me to completion. His tongue was the first and only tongue to taste me, his dick the only one to penetrate me. My body knew him, he knew my body.

Because of all that it made leaving him even harder.

My juices leaked out of me, wetting my thighs and the sheets. I worked my ex with my hand, mouth, and tongue in equal measure until Damon was clenching and unclenching his ass cheeks. He brushed my hair to the side so he could watch as he slid in and out of my mouth, appearing, disappearing.

I took him all the way out, lifted his dick to where it touched his navel so I could drag my tongue along the underside of it.

"…_.fuck_…" Damon titled his head back.

A few good licks and hard strokes of my hand and he would be jizzing. Grabbing him by the hips, I loosened my jaw, relaxed my throat, and engulfed him all the way down to the base, pulled up excruciatingly slow before going back down.

That did it.

Damon hollered, roared, balled his hand into a tight fist and I heard something break. Swallowing, I stared up at him with a little bit of a devilish tint in my eyes.

Ex-husband licked his lips and pushed me backwards on the bed. Damon made sure my ass was almost hanging off the edge of it, as he got down on his knees on the floor right between my legs.

Damon bypassed lubing his fingers with his spit. I was wet plenty enough.

"It misses me," he bragged. "You are so _l'immersione bagnata, _Bonnie. Soaking wet," he translated for me. I got even wetter after he said that. Damon took two fingers and ran them along my slit before pinching that flap of skin.

I hissed like a cat in heat which was appropriate seeing I was ending my self-imposed drought. He sank those same fingers into me, pumped a few times before removing them. Then Damon spread me wide open. His tongue licked me from asshole to clit. Fingers massaged me, and then he was sucking _hard _on my clit until I shredded my sheets with my nails.

"Taste yourself, baby," he said and I did taking those two little devious fingers of his that were inside of me and sucked them into my mouth.

Sex between us was never no frills. It got messy. It got dirty. It got nasty. It was the way I liked it. Damon's face was so far imbedded in my snatch if he were human he would be suffocating. His serpentine tongue danced along that bundle of nerves pushing me closer to the edge but let up right before he sensed I was close to reaching the mountain top.

Leaning up on my elbows I so could watch, I laid there mesmerized as his tongue pillaged that little town between my thighs. I was done for the minute Damon pressed down on my G-spot. I came until every muscle in my body—known and unknown—contracted. Colors danced in front of my wide open eyes and when I closed them, white spots bursts into interesting shapes like splatters of paint on a canvas.

Lax and purring I was ready to curl up and take a short nap but I got no reprieve. Damon's body covered mine and he kissed me smearing the taste of myself on my tongue as I'm sure he tasted himself on mine.

Now it was time for the main event. He was at my entrance and with the slight thrust of his hips, Damon sank into me, filling me to the hilt.

I tensed the hell up!

Immediately I felt a burn that was a cross between pleasure and pain mostly erring on the side of pain. Three months of inactivity would do that to a girl. I didn't own a vibrator which shocked a lot of people, I don't know why, but it did so the only tools I had were my fingers. Needless to say my fingers were ten times _less _the size of Damon's penis, so what I was experiencing was like being impaled by an actual steel rod.

Damon didn't move. He stared down at me, grinning. The idiot. He couldn't help but feel how tight I was, which spelled out one thing. I hadn't been with anyone since him. As if he needed anymore reasons to be cocky.

"Get over yourself," I frowned.

He chuckled and kissed my neck. "It's been just as long for me," he confessed.

I didn't believe him, but if it were true, my heart warmed a little. It was a widely held belief that men moved on faster once a relationship ended. Someone like Damon wouldn't have been single for long before finding himself in another relationship. So for him to admit that he hadn't been with anyone in the last three months it left me flabbergasted.

"Why do you think I came so fast while you gave me head?" he questioned and moved a little.

As I thought about it, it did take a while to get Damon off because he had amazing stamina and could actually come any time he liked, he just preferred to prolong things. I couldn't have blown him for longer than five minutes before it was over.

Interesting indeed.

"It's only your pussy I want to eat, Bonnie," he thrust forward eliciting that potent mix of pleasure and pain to ripple through me again. I panted and moaned. "It's only your _figa_ that makes me this hard," he pulled out slowly and then made me take him in my hand again. Nothing but pure granite. I put him back in. "It's only your pussy I want to…"

I leaned up and kissed him. If he kept talking like that I was going to come undone and my body hadn't finished adjusting to his girth quite yet.

"Shush…no more talking," I ordered and bucked my hips in tandem with his thrusts determined to finish this ride with or without him.

As soon as Damon carved some breathing room, the only sounds to be heard were the slippery, suctioning echo of wet skin hitting wet skin. My knees were pushed up to my chest as Damon commanded the speed of this voyage going fast and hard, deep then slow. He captured a nipple between his teeth and circled his tongue over the elongated tip. His fingers were everywhere it seemed, in my hair, running along my neck, fluttering over my stomach, before moving lower to strum me like a guitar.

He moved his hips like a locomotive that was behind schedule and was trying to make up for lost time. I hadn't realized that he had moved me from one end of the bed to the other until my head was hanging over the edge.

"…so tight…so wet…" he groaned over and over again like a mantra.

I didn't even attempt to speak. I was merely basking in the numerous sensations zinging through me. Sweat poured off my forehead, dangled from the tips of Damon's raven hair. It was stifling hot in my room, felt like a sauna but I wasn't going to tell Damon to stop so I could open a window or turn up the air. It wouldn't have made much difference.

"Come for me, baby," he turned me on my side. We were spooning. Both of our hands were furiously rubbing my center.

I was right there, I could feel it building, and the second Damon's fang gazed my ear that was all she wrote.

My lungs were robbed of every single molecule of air as I gasped trying to catch a breath or release a breath. It was hard as hell to tell which. I just knew my inner muscles clamped down on Damon like a pair of handcuffs refusing to release him out of our custody. Then the spasms started.

Damon released a flood into me. Every single vein in his neck and upper chest was on proud display while one expletive left his mouth after another.

The both of us were panting heavily experiencing aftershocks, and I found myself fighting against habit to curl into a ball beside him. Instead, I collapsed on the bed and counted each and every single delicious spasm and contraction that sent tendrils of the sweetest most decadent pleasure through me. I groaned a bit when Damon pulled out. A few drops of his cum landed on my thigh and the top of my Venus mound.

I looked at him and there was no smugness or arrogance on his face, just a deep serenity I hadn't seen since our wedding day.

"I know this is against the rules…but can I stay the night?" he asked quietly.

Sleepovers were forbidden after the first time we slept together post divorce. Damon literally put me to sleep and when I woke up I found him cooking breakfast in my kitchen. He had the nerve to ask me where I kept my cinnamon since he was making French toast from scratch. As if he couldn't sniff it out for himself. But the domesticity of that scene was a huge drop kick to the stomach that that wasn't our life anymore. He no longer cooked for me. He no longer did sweet gestures for me. The guilt over sleeping with him so soon after the ink dried—a whopping total of six weeks—made me feel like the dumbest bitch on the planet.

I said some rather nasty and scathing things to get him to leave, which worked, but then I felt bad about my behavior, called him up about a week later to apologize, and then we were having phone sex.

I just can't with Damon sometimes.

"Damon," I whined. "Please don't make this any harder than it already is. We shouldn't be doing this in the first place. We're divorced."

"No, _you're _divorced. I still consider myself very much married to you. I'll leave before you wake up. I promise," he positioned himself above me. "Besides I'm not done fucking you. That's all _you _want from me, right?" there was a definite edge to his voice.

I guess I deserved that. The last two times we hooked up, I had been the one to initiate it.

Rotating his hips, he was buried inside me once more. I sighed happily, couldn't help it. Damon dropped to rest on his forearms as I placed my feet, still in my heels, on the back of his legs.

"I'll leave before you wake up," he reiterated and plunged into me deliciously slow. "I promise."

I knew Damon. If I gave into this small demand, he would start making more demands. He would want to see me more often; he'd want to take me to dinner; he'd want to do cute couple-ly things. Then little by little his clothes would start to move in, then his liquor supply, then him!

So I came up a viable compromise. I was far from being sated myself.

"You have until sunrise to satisfy me."

Damon grinned. "Just remember you asked for it."

* * *

Asked for it, I did. Okay, I'm sure you've heard of the expression beat your bottom out. Seriously, I couldn't feel my bottom. I couldn't feel anything below my belly button to be honest. I could see my legs as I sat slumped against the headboard, and I wiggled my toes to make sure they still had movement, and they did, but I couldn't "feel" them in the traditional sense.

Everything was sore in a good way, but it was the kind of sore you wanted to spend the rest of day in bed sleeping off.

The birds were chirping outside. I wanted to join them. Sunlight baked whatever it could reach in my room. I wanted it to warm my skin. The air was permeated with the heady scent of my arousal and male sweat, and I drew a lungful of it in.

At that precise moment the bathroom door opened and Damon came sauntering out with a towel wrapped around his lean waist.

I didn't have a chance to get a good look at him last night because we never bothered to turn the light on in my bedroom. Now seeing him in color, in the brightness of morning, Damon was cut like a middleweight boxer. He _definitely _didn't have that body while we dated or was married. I mean, sure he had muscle tone but nothing that necessarily made your tongue flop out of your head. The more trouble found us, the less time he had to keep his usual diet up and sometimes had no more than one blood bag a day, which I thought would be enough to sustain him. His clothes began to hang on him, his shirts and jeans no longer fitting him snugly.

That no longer appeared to be an issue.

He didn't say anything to me, hardly looked at me as he dressed with his back to me. And what a back it was. Even his booty cheeks were a little rounder, firmer. Whatever marks and tracks I left on his skin had long since healed and he was unblemished porcelain yet again.

On the sly, Damon picked up my discarded G-string and stuffed it in his pocket. I snorted and shook my head.

Sighing contently, I said, "Good morning, Damon."

The vampire in question stared at me over his shoulder—face impassive. "Morning. I'll be out of your hair in two seconds."

Suddenly, the thought of him leaving didn't fill me with relief. If anything I wanted him to stay, but resigned myself to the fact he needed to go. We were not going to give one another false hope.

He searched around the floor to make sure he had everything and once his check was complete he advanced towards the door. I sat up in bed.

"Wait!"

Damon paused mid-step and then turned to face me. I swung one leg off the bed, winced because it pulled my sore muscles, and then swung my right leg. I attempted to stand but this wasn't really working in my favor. I just motioned for Damon to bring his ass to me.

"Bon, you need to soak in the tub," Damon chided and approached.

"I will as soon as I get some sleep."

"I was too rough."

Seeing the concern on my ex-husband's face was getting to be too much. The emotions I had no problems feeling and expressing when we were together were beating at the gate demanding to be released, but I just couldn't go there. This was the downside to sex. Wanting to bond with the person who literally spent all night fucking you. Did I need anymore proof that having sex with ex-husbands was not good for one's sanity? Having sex with exes, period set you up for failure and continued heartache.

I knew it was on the tip of Damon's tongue. His offer to stay to help me bathe, and put on my pajamas so I could sleep the rest of Saturday away. It was a pleasant thought, damn good pleasant thought, and the more I thought about it the more I wanted it. Yep, it was time for him to do as Michael said and beat it.

He reached for my hands and lifted me to my feet. I'm sure the floor was supporting my weight, but I clung to Damon anyways afraid gravity would forget she existed and I'd be on the ground.

Those ridiculously blue eyes of his were laughing while the rest of his face was nothing but impenetrable stone.

"Thank you for last night," I murmured shyly.

"You know it was my pleasure. And any time you want to issue another all-night challenge I'm up for it."

"I still think it's highly unfair there's not a scratch or mark on you. You're not even tired!"

Damon tweaked my nose. "I'm a vampire, Bonnie. I heal fast and have naturally built-in stamina. I stay hard, you know that."

I cleared my throat and nodded. "I would see you to the door but I'm afraid I won't be able to make it back to bed."

A divot formed between Damon's eyebrows. "I should stay…"

Placing my fingers over his lips, sadly I shook my head. "You know our history. Things will be great and we'll get a long for ten minutes, but soon we'd be at each other's throats, rehashing the past and saying things we don't mean. Let's end this on a good note."

Damon sighed heavily. "I want to see you again."

"Damon."

"Bonnie I _earned _the right to see you."

"See, this is what I'm talking about," I sat back down on the bed. "I tell you no and then you go slinging words around like earn, and owe, and whatever the hell else. We had a good time, but that's it. This doesn't mean we're dating or starting a casual fling. I mean it. For real this time. Last night was last night, and that's it. I need—no I _want _to move on, and you _need _to move on."

A storm brewed in Damon's eyes. He was so pissed that his face did vamp out before he got control of himself. It had been a while since I saw the whites of his eyes bleed red, and the veins underneath writhe in anticipation of a long overdue bloodletting.

"That's what your _mouth _keeps saying, but everything else about you is telling me a much different story, Bonnie. You're not over me."

I looked away.

"You talk a good game like you can handle a casual fuck every once and a while, but I know better," he pulled me to my feet and bent his knees so he could look me directly in the eye. "I'm in this for the long haul. No matter how long it takes…you'll be my wife again. My _happily_ married wife."

"You're delusional."

"And you're the bane of my existence but the love of my life," ex-husband countered and kissed me hard on the mouth and smacked my booty. "Try not to walk too funny," Damon said in departure as he left my apartment with a slam of the door.

* * *

The following week it rained cats and dogs. Things were slow at work, and I was finally walking properly. When I showed up at the office on Monday, Dakota, even Cheryl asked if I had some sort of accident. I put them at ease and said I signed up for a grueling spin class.

Mr. Grey was thankfully conducting business out of town this week, so other than handling my day-to-day responsibilities there really wasn't much to do, and there was very little excitement.

Rebekah was still upset with me since I bailed on her to basically get my rocks off. I made an attempt to make it up to her by showing up at her place with her favorite takeout and movie _Gentlemen Prefer Blondes_. She might have smiled all of twice while we were hanging out, and other than her chilly reception, monosyllabic responses to my questions, I had a lovely time. Note the sarcasm.

Unfortunately my thoughts never strayed too far from Damon. Every night since last Friday I did check my phone and all five of my email accounts just to see if he might have tried to reach out and get in touch with me. He didn't.

Another week passed and still I didn't hear from him. It was now officially summer and couples were coming out of the woodwork, out of hibernation taking all the good tables in restaurants, making out in movie theaters, sending out their wedding invitations. Yuck.

My own life returned to its routine stagnation. I'd go out with my friends from work, Rebekah and I would hit _Lamia, _but every night I returned to my cold empty bed.

Finally something good did happen. I ran into Erik Mauer at Whole Foods. The light bulb in my refrigerator glared at me every time I opened it hoping food might magically appear, but it didn't so that meant making a trip to the store.

I noticed Erik first as he was perusing avocados. It had already been established the man could wear the hell out of a suit but seeing him attired in a plain white Polo shirt, jeans, and his obsidian hair gelled back off that cream inducing face of his, made me tingle, and then grow inexplicably self-conscious.

I peered down at myself and grimaced. I was wearing a pair of Capri's and there was a slight—okay no— _very_ noticeable Clorox stain saying hello to everyone on my kneecap. I paired my chocolate Capri's with an oversized tee from my Alma Mater Whitmore College, and my hair was in a messy bun. And the horror, homegirl left the house without a stitch of makeup, just some Vaseline on my lips that I'm sure I looked like I just finished eating a bucket of chicken.

So high fashion.

Nevertheless, I tried to be as discreet as possible. Besides, there was the possibility Erik wouldn't remember who I was. I wouldn't remember me looking like this compared to our first meeting where I was dressed to the nines, and my hair was laid.

I did need to pick out a few things from the produce section, so I sucked it up, reared back my shoulders, and continued with my shopping all the while keeping Erik in my peripheral vision.

The closer I got to him the more the scent of his cologne called to me. He was wearing the exact same cologne on the day we met.

"Oh, excuse me," I said as I reached for an orange.

"I'm sorry," he shifted out of the way while his accent seduced my ears.

I looked up then and tried to act surprised to see him. Erik was staring at me but I couldn't exactly read his expression.

"Erik? Erik Mauer?" I said.

He blinked but still looked kind of iffy about me.

All right this wasn't going how I imagined it would go in my head. He was supposed to say, "Bonnie? Bonnie Bennett? Wow, you're even more beautiful with no makeup and tore-up clothes."

"Yeah, we met about three weeks ago at the 17th Street bus stop. You asked me…"

"Oh, right! Forgiveness," he exclaimed and switched his basket to his left hand so he could give me a handshake.

His palm swallowed my hand and was just as warm.

"How have you been?" Erik inquired and folded those brawny, olive toned arms across his massive torso.

I cleared my throat. "Good. How are you adjusting to Seattle Lake?"

Erik bobbed his head and then looked away for a bit, a classic sign he might have been uncomfortable, not with me, but with the fact he was in a totally new environment. Psychology had been my minor in college. I wouldn't say I was a body language expert, but I learned to recognize signs in behavior based on cues people gave off while being engaged in conversation. He was nervous.

"I'm still adjusting, to be fair. Culture wise this place isn't much different from home, but I miss my family, close friends, that sort of thing."

"I understand. Originally I'm from this real small town in the south. The kind of place you see in movies where everyone knows everyone's business, and the town events are the only source of entertainment to be had. Moving here was a real big adjustment. There's just so much to do."

"I'm learning that as well. How long have you lived here?"

"For about a year."

"You must know where all the hot spots are."

"I do," I smiled brightly because things seemed to be shifting on course.

"Hmm," Erik murmured non-committally. Okay.

"How are things at work?" I asked to keep the conversation going.

Erik let out an amused chuckle. "Well, I can say the female office staff has been _very_ welcoming. The men don't know what to make of me, but things have been running smoothly."

We smiled at one another and then fell at another loss. Apparently he wasn't going to ask that I show him around, and I wasn't_ that_ presumptuous to offer.

"Well, I don't want to keep you from shopping," I said hurriedly.

Erik's face fell a little flat with disappointment—I think.

"It was good seeing a familiar face again, Bonnie Bennett."

"Likewise."

"Umm…would you want to go out sometime? I could use a tour guide, unless your boyfriend would mind."

"No boyfriend," I was quick to say. "No husband either," hopefully my eye didn't twitch when I said that. "I'm all free."

Erik's cheeks were beginning to color over. It was so cute. This man must be ignorant of his hotness because he was acting like a shy teenager who had never gone out on a date. I could only assume women flocked to Erik, were attracted to him, and he could have his pick of the liter. To take one glance at Erik you'd say alpha male, but speaking with him he was more of a pup.

A very cute, very tall, very sex pup. Okay, that didn't sound right.

"Here let me give you my number," I offered.

Erik and I exchanged numbers and then went our separate ways. We could have continued shopping together, gone out for a smoothie and enjoy the weather, but I was not at my cutest and I rather not press my luck.

As soon as I returned home and put my things away, I retained that happy feeling of meeting another acquaintance someone I hoped would become a friend, something more, someone I could sink my teeth into.

I could do this. I could officially move on with my life. Live like a single, twenty-nine year old woman whose emotional baggage unfortunately came in the shape of a vampire ex-husband. It was fixable. It was manageable, and I was ready to prove to the naysayers that Bonnie Bennett was _dea del sesso _on the prowl.

My stomach growled. First things first. The sex goddess needed to eat.

Chapter end.

**A/N: I think someone asked who I envisioned as Erik. I don't have a specific actor in mind, but who I picture him as is this Armani underwear model. I tried to find his name, but I haven't been successful, but as soon as I have it, I'll definitely pass it on. **

**After watching the finale, for me I'm done with the show. That being said, the stories I'm currently working on, including this one: Requiem for a Dream, Swap Our Places, Don't Ask Don't Tell, Wide Awake, The Good Girl, and Secretary will be the only stories I'm going to finish, or try my best to finish. Everything else I have listed as being on hiatus will remain on hiatus, but if you'd like to what know I had planned for those stories, you can PM me and I'll be glad to tell you. I also won't be writing the sequels to A Kiss Goodnight and Think Twice. I'm done trying to fix what's been broken in canon since Kevin Williamson left the show in JP's ratchet hands. This is a bittersweet decision I'm making, but its time that I start working on creating my own characters and plots, and dedicating so much of my time penning these stories is holding me up. I hope you guys understand. Well, until next time. Love you!**


	4. What the?

**A/N: Thank you, everyone who's left a review, followed, or added to your favorites. Thanks a bunch, and because of your love for this story it has definitely kept my muse fueled. So enjoy.**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. (Christian Grey belongs to EL James, all OC's are mine). No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Click went the sound of the mouse as I tapped it to pull up the next slide of the PowerPoint presentation my boss was giving to a room full of his top executives and managers. There were approximately eighty people assembled. Some of them following Mr. Grey with their eyes any time he shifted behind the podium, others flipped through the hardcopy of the presentation, while many more nibbled on the snacks that I had delivered via our concierge service.

Don't ask me what he was talking about. Various projects, numbers, implementation—that sort of thing. The sort of thing that put a lowly assistant like myself straight to sleep. I sat behind the "mother board" which was really the sound board that controlled the microphones, speakers, and screens manning the laptop to keep my boss' presentation flowing and in order. The technician, Jacobi Winters tried to keep me entertained with jokes, but his breath teetered on the funky side and many times I had to hold my breath when he would lean over to whisper in my ear. Seriously bro, help yourself to a mint or some gum.

To stay awake, I focused on the timbre of Mr. Grey's voice. It wasn't something I did often mainly because when he spoke it was succinct and to the point, kind of biting, that you couldn't _wait_ until he stopped speaking. It was deep, and certain words he pronounced made him seem like a throwback from Jane Austen times. If I didn't know he was American born, I would assume he hailed from England, but he didn't have an English accent. Pity. It would have suited him well.

If he dropped the haughtiness, I'm better and smarter and prettier than you from his voice, Christian's voice would remind me of snuggling up with a blanket, sitting on the couch with hot chocolate or your favorite brand of coffee about to read some really fantastic smut.

While Mr. Grey continued to talk about overseas imports and countries I let my mind wander.

I thought about the fact I hadn't been to Mystic Falls in over a year. My dad still lived there although I asked him numerous times on different occasions to move. I even offered him the second bedroom in my apartment, but still he wouldn't budge. Wouldn't give up his post as Mayor. He had survived far longer than the previous mayors, but luck was a fleeting thing, and I didn't want his to end with me living close to three thousand miles away.

I remembered the day I told my dad that I was moving to Seattle Lake. He thought I had gotten into trouble and needed to leave for my own safety. If only it had been that simple. I just couldn't live in the same city or state as Damon. I wanted a fresh start. A clean slate.

My father didn't have much of a reaction when I told him I was divorcing Damon, but the obvious relief in his eyes let me know he was saying: "About damn time". My dad and Damon got along for my sake and my sake only, and I applauded them for their effort. Holidays were strained but eventful, and every time I popped up at my old family home to pay the old man a visit, I could see the loneliness in his eyes. He wanted me around, but mainly he just wanted family. Grandchildren. And as long as I was married to Damon that was never going to happen.

Me practically signing myself up to be barren didn't sit well with my dear old dad. Quite frankly, I didn't know he had that big of a desire to be a grandfather, but as he continued to get up there in age, my dad—Rudy Hopkins—finally learned the value of family. And since there weren't that many of us Hopkins'/Bennett's still poking around, dad had looked to me to fill in the gaps on the family tree.

When I married Damon it was a selfish move, and I'll explain. Because we loved each other intensely that it nearly bordered on obsession without going over the insanity edge, I just wanted Damon all to myself. Everything I had, I shared with others, but Damon was the one thing in my life that was explicitly mine, but then again he wasn't. I still had to share him, lease him out to so many people who depended on him just to maintain some semblance of a normal life, i.e. Stefan and Elena. Elena was turned into a vampire due to an accident, and she didn't transition well at all! My ex-husband's blood had been the blood to change her, and everyday for the first month of her life as a vampire she was blowing up Damon's phone needing him to help her with this or that.

I allowed it for a while. Elena had been my best friend. I would have, and had done, anything for her. But the second she started getting thirsty for Damon's attention when she didn't need it, that's when I put my foot down.

She didn't like it. Not one bit. Even accused me of being jealous of the "connection" she shared with Damon. Something she claimed had been established way before I got a whiff of an interest in him. I can concede and say that part was true—their connection, not the jealousy part. Elena had been the first person to extend her friendship to Damon when he returned to Mystic Falls. But they weren't bosom buddies, pen pals, all that good stuff. He looked out for her, and she looked out for him the best she could.

For a second I did think they would hook up, become a thing, but Elena maintained her allegiance to Stefan, but the second that tri—I mean chick became a bloodsucker, all those warm and fuzzy feelings for the younger Salvatore shifted to the elder.

By that time Damon had practically stamped his name on my vagina. And I made damn sure my name was tattooed on his magic wand.

Elena backed off, gave us some breathing room, but the next time she came sniffing around, Damon and I had been married for three years. She tried to pull one of the oldest tricks in the book to get her way, but her plan failed, backfired, and she not only lost me as a friend, Stefan as a lover, but she lost Damon's respect, and that probably cut her more than anything. She could really give a fuck about the rest of us.

"Now that concludes the spectacle side of this presentation. I open the floor to questions," Mr. Grey's voice slapped me out of my reverie. He then nodded to me as I clicked the final slide.

The Q & A portion lasted for thirty minutes before Mr. Grey made his final remarks. Chairs shuffled against the gunmetal gray carpet, and voices began to grow louder and louder as people discussed points of the presentation or random gossip.

At these types of meetings I operated like a phantom. I moved between tables, collecting discarded presentation printouts we _always _urged people to take with them because, no doubt, they would be blowing up my phone asking for a copy or a PDF file. If only people could stop being hard-headed! The janitorial staff would take care of getting rid of the trash and rearranging the chairs and table design for the next meeting.

Occasionally, as I did my rounds I'd look up to see who was pandering to get some face time with Christian. He wasn't big on large group meetings, preferred to meet with people either off site or one-on-one. He was the farthest thing from personable, but people just loved to orbit around him. I didn't want to be superficial and say it was because of his movie star good looks, but that may have been part of the reason, not the whole she-bang. Admittedly, Mr. Grey was brilliant, had been something of a child prodigy, and was the adoptive son of world-renown philanthropists. He loved technology, and what it could do to make the lives of people living in post Colonialism countries better. It was his shtick.

He just happened to profit close to a billion dollars doing it.

After collecting the extra handouts, I looked up again to pinpoint the location of my boss, and this time he was staring right at me. My heart skipped and not because I was fangirling or anything preposterous like that, but because it wasn't often anything could draw away Mr. Grey's attention when he was engaged with a colleague. When he spoke with you he had your undivided attention, and he gave it right back when someone was brave enough to speak their mind with him.

So for Mr. Grey to be staring at yours truly while Dr. Candance Bernice from Applied Sciences was talking a black hole into his ear—spoke volumes.

I stilled in the event he needed something. He did. He mouthed something to me.

"_Water."_ Is what my brain translated.

Picking up my feet, I collected a chilled bottle of water off the countertop in the back of the conference room, filled a clear plastic cup with ice, and then walked both items over to Mr. Friendly.

The muscles in my back and shoulders grew tense. I'm sure I'm not the only person who got uncomfortable when you found yourself surrounded by people way smarter than you.

"Sorry to interrupt," I murmured politely and handed over the cup and water bottle to Mr. Grey.

Eyes landed on me like flies on trash. Not a good analogy, but you get my drift. I ignored the penetrating stares and kept my evergreen eyes on my boss.

"Thank you, Miss Bennett," Mr. Grey said. Another shock. He hardly thanked anyone for anything. You did what you were good at, got a paycheck and some killer benefits for it. That was Mr. Grey's way of saying 'thank you'.

His fingers overlapped mine as he took the items from my possession. I didn't have any kind of reaction, and I was surprised that my heart didn't do that funny flutter business whenever I made physical contact with an obscenely handsome man.

This was a good thing. Having zero sexual attraction to your boss was a major plus. Now, I wasn't exactly immune from being physically attracted to him. He was classically beautiful, designed like a character from a romance novel. Tall, broad shouldered, swimmers build, unblemished albeit pale skin, wild copper hair, electric silver-gray eyes, a kissable mouth, long eyelashes…I think you get where I'm going with this so I'll stop.

Nodding, I slowly backed away and briefly looked at the four people assembled around Mr. Grey. Two of them male, the other two female. The men were leering. The women—stone-faced.

With Mr. Grey occupied I went about the rest of my duties. Fielding questions from the stragglers who didn't want to return to their offices or cubes. Arranging the left over food and drinks on the cart to be taken back to the cafeteria, and placed some miscellaneous items into the storage closet that was offset the small kitchen.

"I'm ready whenever you are, Miss Bennett," Mr. Grey's voice spooked me.

Typically after a meeting he'd be on his way to another meeting. That man was always in meetings. But it was just he and I. My arms were loaded with the extra printouts and the laptop. It wasn't a heavy load.

Thankfully, Christian didn't ask me any questions about the presentation. He wasn't really paying me to think or to give my opinion, either.

We had to walk down a slight incline that wasn't carpeted. I grew a little concerned because I was rocking my five inch Jimmy Choo's and they didn't respond well to non-flat surfaces, stairs, or concrete.

Mr. Grey lightly gripped my elbow and I looked up at him sharply. He was facing forward, eyes on the frosted glass double doors.

Someone must have spilled something because one minute I was walking perfectly fine, and the next, my right foot was flying out from under me and I was falling down.

The papers flew up into the air before fluttering to the ground. The laptop, I managed to clutch that to my chest, but surprisingly my ass didn't hit the hard floor. Mr. Grey had excellent reflexes because he was holding me under both arms.

"Are you okay, Bonnie? Here sit down."

Oh, so it's Bonnie now? Aren't we moving up in the world?

"I'm fine," I said, heart beating fast cheeks turning an embarrassing shade of pink. I'm sure they were.

"I saw your ankle twist kind of awkwardly."

How could he have seen that unless he was a vampire? Which would explain a lot. When I first shook his hand during my interview, I got nothing but the vibration of humanity pulsing through him. Now with Christian holding on to my elbow again, his fingers burned me through my flimsy blouse.

I took a seat on a bench lined up against the wall. My ankle wasn't hurting, but I sat with a stunned look on my face, nonetheless, as Mr. Grey kneeled down to his haunches, picked up my right foot, and tenderly began to prod the area around my ankle.

"Does it hurt when I add pressure?" he looked me right in the eyes while he took liberties with my ankle bone.

"Umm…ahhh…no…I'm okay."

Mr. Grey wasn't convinced so he flexed and extended, twisted and turned my foot to see if it might elicit a painful response. Honestly my ankle was fine.

If anyone were to walk in and see us, talk about scandal.

It was public knowledge that Mr. Grey didn't mix business with pleasure. He never leered at anyone—male, female—kept everyone at a safe personal distance. Hell, he hardly smiled. To see the CEO of CGI fondling my ankle was throwing me for several loops.

Mr. Grey placed my foot back on the floor. His fingers "may have" accidentally brushed up my calf. Again, I felt the burn of his touch and it made me clear my throat.

"Did you bring any flats with you? You should probably stay off that ankle in case it swells later."

Maybe he was hard of hearing or thought I was lying, but there was no pain, there was no injury. I was perfectly fine.

Still, I wouldn't pass up the opportunity to experience a human moment with my boss. This was surreal like spotting an albino rhino in the wild.

"I do, but they don't exactly go with my outfit. It takes a lot to bruise me, Mr. Grey," his eyes darkened a bit after I said that. I cleared my throat and diplomatically chose to ignore the thought that could have flashed through his head right now. "I'm resilient."

And to prove how much I was, I got to my feet without Mr. Grey's assistance and walked over to the papers littered on the floor. I didn't bend over to give him a view of my ass, but I hunched down, collected the papers, and I was standing upright again.

When I turned around to face Mr. Grey his eyes flew up to my face. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. He so totally checked out my ass. I mean, I couldn't exactly hide it. Especially not in a pencil skirt that molded to my frame. Still, that gave me a tingle.

"After you," Christian said, poker face back on. He wasn't even blushing that he narrowly got caught peeping out his assistant.

After me indeed.

* * *

There was a running tradition between myself and Rebekah. Every second and third Saturday we met up at our favorite bistro—Imperium, for bunch, quickly followed by a trip to the spa for massages, facials, mani and pedi's, before ending the night at _Lamia _or some other dance club. I wasn't in the mood to go to_ Lamia_ considering I was ducking my ex, but I was _always_ in the mood to ogle Marcel who I learned had to hop on his G4 to Nawlins to handle a personal matter. Poo.

Erik Mauer had only called me once since we exchanged numbers about two weeks ago. The conversation had been brief and mostly centered on his continued assimilation to American life. It was good to take things slow, get to know someone instead of going from: "Hey how ya doing?" to "Yes, fuck me right there!"

That's pretty much the crux of the conversation I was having with Rebekah as she filled me in on her latest relationship drama which was really a faux pas.

"So there it was, in my face and unadulterated, Bonnie. Twelve and a half inches of skin. Now, it takes a lot to frighten me but I was petrified. Literally my inner muscles were shivering in fear."

I giggled as I forked more eggs into my mouth. "So what happened?"

"I love challenges, you know that, and he looked almost ashamed he was so big. I took him, his hand," she clarified quickly, "held it, and told him we would find a way to make this work. I'm a vampire so I can't be killed by fucking."

"You sure about that? From what I'm hearing and visualizing in my head, ole boy was sporting major wood, and it definitely could have penetrated your heart."

"Shut it," Rebekah griped and took a sip of her mimosa. "So I'm thinking of the positions we could try out so it wouldn't be too painful of an experience. Riding was out. Doggy style was questionable, and missionary is simply too boring. We tried the wall first. I'm not the lightest feather so he could only keep me held upright for fifteen minutes before he started complaining of his muscles burning. You know I was deeply offended by that. Thirty minutes later, and all he managed to get was the head, which I won't even describe, and maybe two inches in. I know women fancy about being with a mandingo, but I wouldn't recommend it."

"Good to know," I cleared my throat. Did I fail to mention that Rebekah had a deep, deep, deep affinity for chocolate? No, my mistake. She loved black men and they in turn loved her. "Are you going to see him again?"

Rebekah shrugged. "I don't know. He's a nice enough fellow. I may give him another shot." Pause. "For the record I'm still pissed that you abandoned me at _Lamia_ to go and sleaze it up with your ex. If you were going to strip and have sex with Damon every time you saw him, then why in hell did you divorce him?"

I knew it was coming but it still caught me off guard. "You know better than anyone why I wanted out. Yes, I divorced him but that didn't mean I completely divorced how I felt about him."

"You're still in love with him, aren't you?"

My eyes dropped down to my half-finished plate. I sighed heavily. My feelings for Damon were complicated. Yes, I still loved him and a part of me always would. He was my first everything; and getting over that, letting that history go wasn't going to happen in the year and some change we had been divorced. However, in the long run we were better off going our separate ways. Like I said before, I wanted things Damon couldn't give me.

I finally brought my eyes back up to my friend who was staring at me almost exasperatedly. "He means a lot to me and I will probably love him forever. But my wants and desires for my future changed, and Damon's remained the same. He wasn't budging and I wasn't letting go."

Rebekah pursed her lips but nodded. "You know I understand better than anyone, Bonnie. The sacrifices that have to be made being supernatural. There's no cure for what I am. I can marry, but that's the extent of what I can do. I'll never have a family of my own. And that truth hurts more than anything. I'll never be given the chance to prove that I'll be a much better mother than my own was to me. But you, you still have that option."

"I do," I agreed. This conversation always made me slightly uncomfortable. Whenever Rebekah would talk about there being a miracle cure to vampirism, I'd tense up.

After years of searching I had found a spell to undo immortality. But that spell was contained within a grimoire that was no longer in my possession. No longer in anyone's possession because my impulsive ex-husband burned it.

He rather be dead than be mortal again, those had been his exact words to me. How I interpreted them: he rather live forever, watch me grow old and die, and never have a family with me.

There were things out there a woman wanted more than they wanted the love of a man.

Children.

Not to say that was my exact case.

A dark, sullen cloud had settled over our table. Thankfully our waitress came over to check up on us. We resumed our happy go-lucky conversation, finished our meal, paid the tab, and then headed on foot to the spa which was only a block away from the restaurant.

Dressed in plush robes, reclined in leather seats, with our feet soaking in water, Rebekah and I continued to talk shop while flipping through magazines.

"Any new development with that guy you were telling me about? It's hard to keep track with whom you're stalking."

"Shut it," I teased. "Unfortunately, no. We've only talked once since I ran into him at the grocery store looking a hot mess," I cringed at the memory.

"That's probably why. When will you learn never to leave the house looking anything less than fabulous? Have I taught you nothing? Always be prepared. You're never going to hook a fish if you look like Scarecrow."

I rolled my eyes and then held up two bottles of nail polish. "Which one should I get on my toes?"

Rebekah studied my selections. "Go with the more dramatic one. Sparkles make you look juvenile."

"Thank you," I bit out sarcastically.

"Do you have your outfit arranged for the night?" Rebekah queried.

"Yes, mom. Ironed it and everything."

"Good. What are we doing for the Fourth? Miami?"

I shook my head in the negative. "I was thinking we could stay here for the festival and head out to Boone Island to watch the fireworks."

Rebekah rolled her cornflower blue eyes. "Other than _Club Lamia_, which isn't all that great to begin with, a few upscale boutiques, and a handful of five-star restaurants this place blows. Ouch," my darling friend glared at her pedicurist who obvious filed a little too hard after that lovely comment Rebekah made. Apparently no one dissed her town and their toes survived.

"Sorry," the pedicurist said and sounded anything but.

"You just cost yourself a pretty massive tip," Rebekah angrily flipped the page in her magazine.

"Don't pay any attention to her," I said to the lady who was visibly upset. "She thinks the movie Xanadu deserved an Oscar," I chuckled.

"Fuck off," Rebekah spat and then smiled a little. "You honestly don't feel like going on holiday?"

"No, I want to stay here and party with the locals."

"And run into Damon," my posh friend tried to mumble under her breath. I heard her anyways.

I scowled at her. "Get off my case about that, Rebekah. It was a mistake."

"No," the blond original refuted. "The first time it happened was a mistake, the second, maybe you can chalk it up to a fluke, but the third and forth time you're making a choice. But whatever. I'm out of it. It's none of my business what you decide to do with your vagina. Just don't come sobbing on my shoulder when you find yourself back in that dark place again because you allowed Damon back into your life."

It was pretty much safe to say I pouted for the rest of my spa treatment replaying Rebekah's words over and over in my head. Why couldn't she be just another dumb blonde? Damn.

* * *

I was exhausted, a bit tipsy, but very, very happy. Dragging my carcass into my apartment at close to three in the morning, I remembered to lock my door after the cab I caught with Rebekah dropped me off. She left me with a parting gift in a slap to my ass, and told me to go straight to bed after popping an aspirin and drinking at least two glasses of water. She was worried I'd develop bags under my eyes.

Humming a melody to myself, I kicked off my mules and rubbed life back into my pinky toes that were slightly raw from all the dancing I did tonight.

I giggled a bit as I thought back to the two guys I met tonight. One said he was an investment banker, the other said he was an accountant. Both were smart, good-looking, and bought me drinks. I gave one of them my _real _phone number and the other a number to this Chinese takeout place I liked to order from. He didn't think I'd see it but I saw that incriminating tan line on his ring finger. Married men were not my preference.

"What about men who used to be married?" I asked the walls of my apartment as I shuffled to my bed and landed on it.

My eyelids felt like lead and were closing fast, but I was jolted awake by the shrill ringing of my phone. Wincing, grumbling, and scowling I reached for the cordless and pulled it off the base.

"If this isn't an emergency what do you want?" I answered.

"You've been bad tonight, Bonnie," a deep masculine voice chastised me.

I sat upright in bed. "Damon? Why are you calling me at," I looked at the clock. "Why are you calling me at 3:35 in the morning?"

"I've been calling you since nine o'clock _last _night. You were out with Rebekah. Right?"

"It's none of your business where I've been. You've been MIA for close to a month and you think I'm supposed to just give you an update on my comings and goings…"

"I was in Mystic Falls," Damon interrupted my tirade.

My teeth sat on edge. "What were you doing in Mystic Falls? Did _she _call you? You know what. Don't answer because I don't care."

My ex-husband chuckled. "Be careful, Bonnie. That sounds a lot like jealousy in your voice. And for someone who doesn't care about what I do, from your tone it sounds like you're bothered by the idea I might have a life outside of you."

"Whatever," that was the best and only comeback I could think of. So lame.

"Elena knows to get missing when I stroll into town," Damon went on to say. "Maybe you forgot that my brother still lives there."

"Stefan still can't keep his undead ass out of trouble?" I fell back against my pillow.

"More or less. He told me to tell you he says hi and that he's not responsible for giving me your contact information. That was Caroline's doing, actually."

"Fuck me," I moaned and slapped my hand over my eyes.

"I'm on _the_ way."

"Damon," I said warningly. "How are they?"

"You can call them and find out for yourself. You know how sensitive Stefan is. He's still hurt that you moved away without telling him. Caroline…she's Caroline. Trying to pretend like life is okay so long as she's head of every single committee under the sun. They miss you and want to see you, and if you'd stop being a grouch, get your ass on a plane, and visit things will be okay in the world. You divorced me, Bonnie, not them."

Guiltily I bit down on my bottom lip. I could admit cutting out nearly all aspects of my life in Mystic Falls, including my friendships with Caroline and Stefan was a bit hasty. But Stefan had been our biggest fanboy, and Caroline loved epic romances although she couldn't stand Damon, but she loved the fact that I was so in love, and that's the part she championed for.

I spoke with Caroline sporadically, but we weren't as tight as we used to be. Every time she asked me to come home for a visit, I'd make up some excuse about being too busy with work to travel, or take a vacation. Although there were incriminating photos of me and Rebekah in St. Croix last summer on my Facebook page, but those pictures were labeled private and only certain people could view them. In my defense, Rebekah foot the bill for the trip. I just brought along some spending cash.

"I'll give Caroline a call," I conceded. "I do miss her."

"Good. So…did you go out tonight?" Damon asked.

"I did."

There was a slight pause. "You weren't at _Lamia._"

"No, I wasn't."

"So where were you?"

"At a place called Mind Your Business."

Damon laughed, the sound of it doing something it shouldn't be doing to my ears. "I'm guessing if I ask to come over you're going to cuss me out."

I crossed my legs at the ankle. "It's a possibility," and then my stomach growled. Hopefully he didn't hear that.

"Sounds like someone is hungry. I can feed you."

My tongue wet my bottom lip and I felt myself falling, but I immediately slammed on the brakes. "I have plenty of food in my refrigerator, Damon, but thank you for the offer. I need to go."

"Oh, so soon?" and I heard something suspiciously sound like a zipper lowering.

"What are you doing?" my voice elevated.

"Well, you don't think I sat at home like a bump on the log, do you? I went out and I enjoyed myself."

"How many did you drain?" I asked dryly.

"Zero. I have restraint, doll face, you know that. And no one's blood can hold a candle to yours."

The doorbell rang.

"You better not be at my fucking door, Damon," I climbed off the bed, stomped my way through the living room, looked out the peephole, and rolled my eyes. Swinging the door open there was my ex-husband. I clicked off the cordless. "What are you doing here?"

Damon smiled charmingly and then strolled inside like he paid the bills. Okay, he did but still.

"Really, Damon?" I closed the door. "What are you doing here?"

"I left something behind the last time I was here."

Folding my arms tightly over the bodice of my dress, I glared up at him. "If you say 'your heart' I'm throwing you through the door."

He grinned. "No, I was going to say my American Express card. Have you seen it? It must have fallen out of my wallet."

My jaw dropped in exasperation. "It's not here because trust me I would have found it."

"I don't think you would have found it," Damon said as he strolled over to the leather seat next to the fireplace where he proceeded to dig around the cushion, "if it got lodge in the seat," and he pulled out his card.

I wasn't impressed. "Knowing you, you probably planted it there to give you an excuse to pop up at my place unannounced."

Damon's insolent grin gave him away. "I used to do that…in the early days before we started dating hardcore," my ex advanced on me filling up the room with his aura and personality. "I'd drop by your house and you'd pretend to be annoyed with me, but I knew you were secretly giddy inside. I would climb into bed with you while you did your homework or studied for some test, and I'd draw circles on your lower back," he was standing less than a foot away from me. "You'd fall asleep curled up right next to me, and that's how I knew you trusted me. You were finally able to relax around me because you knew I'd never do anything to hurt you."

My eyes lowered to the floor. "That was a long time ago."

"Feels like yesterday to me."

"In your timeline it was yesterday. I'm not that eighteen year old girl anymore."

"And…well I'm still an egotistical jerk," Damon lifted my chin with his finger. His eyes were smoldering. "We're still _us, _Bonnie. I'm still in there," he poked me above my left breast.

Things lingered in the air. Regret. Loss. Passion. Heat. Pain.

Damon moved forward and kissed my forehead. "I only got one of the things I came here for. Don't forget to lock up."

He was gone and again emotions coiled inside that I was in denial still existed.

* * *

What do you do when pesky ex-husband's refused to stay away from you, consumed your thoughts, and made you yearn for a body that wasn't there?

You went to a drag race show with your best male friend, that's what. The smell of the asphalt, oil, rubber, the euphoria of the crowd, and the occasional shirtless man were all a wonderful distraction to my otherwise preoccupied mind. Don't get me wrong, I loved hanging out with Rebekah doing girly things, but sometimes I wanted to venture out of my comfort zone and experience something involving speed and breaking traffic laws.

I followed Connor Jordan around staying close to his side as we went from pit to pit admiring the engines of people's tricked out cars. Connor owned his own showroom, loved cars, anything that traveled at high speeds really, and was an amateur racer. I took him up on his offer to go down to the race track because it was Sunday and I didn't have anything else to do. Besides, it was a beautiful summer day, the perfect day to be out of the house and away from certain thoughts.

Connor was one of the first people I met when I moved to Seattle Lake. We immediately took to one another which was rare for both of us because we didn't warm up to strangers so easily. Connor was different from other guys. He was a vampire hunter but had been in retirement since his fiancé was killed four years ago while he had been away on an assignment. Natalia—his fiancé, had wanted Connor to get out of the business, and he said he would after his final job.

Turned out his final job had been a set up by the vampire he had been trying to kill for the last decade or so. Natalia was kidnapped, tortured, and left to starve to death. When Connor returned, and learned what happened, he got his revenge on that vampire, and to honor Natalia's life he stopped hunting.

He lived under the radar because, as you can imagine, there were plenty of vampires who had it out for him. But they wouldn't dare touch him. Not if they wanted to induce the hunter's curse. See, if a vampire killed a member of The Brotherhood of the Five, which was comprised of supernatural vampire hunters, then that vampire was plagued with suicidal hallucinations for eternity. This "curse" was pretty much Connor's insurance policy.

The heat was picking up and we had been out here since the gates opened at ten. It was now nearing one o'clock and I was getting antsy for some shade, food, and a place to sit.

I tapped Connor on the shoulder. "Hey, I'm heading over to the concession stand. Do you want anything?"

"Two frankfurters and a Corona," Connor reached into his pocket to pull out his cash, but I shook my head. He paid our way in and the tickets hadn't been cheap. The least I could do was buy our food.

"No, I have it covered. I'll be back. Don't move from this spot," I ordered. The crowd was thick and I was short even with my platform sneakers on so I didn't want to lose him.

Meandering my way through the crowd, I had to pass by the motorcycle part of the race track. There were a lot of men out here, some cute, some not so cute. The only attractive thing about them was the Harleys under his butts, or the cars they leaned against. Nonetheless, I avoided making prolonged eye contact as a way of discouraging anyone from trying to make a pass at me.

Someone stepped into my path and I immediately shifted course only for that person to move in my way again.

"Excuse me," I said curtly, and tried to go left only to be blocked. Finally looking up, the mammoth in front of me looked intimidating and when he smiled revealing a gold tooth, I tried so hard not to grimace.

"Hey, lil sexy. My bike could certainly profit from your fine ass straddling it." Was that supposed to be a compliment? "Wanna take a look?"

"No thank you."

The man made the mistake of touching me. I got a vibe from him. Werewolf. Perfect.

"What's your rush?"

"The rush being I'm hungry and you're holding me up. Now," I slid his hand off me. "Kindly get out of the way."

The aggressor invaded my space and I took a step back but the crowd milling behind me kind of jostled me a bit.

"I like feisty girls. They taste sweeter," he licked his lips. "Just give me two seconds, sexy."

Why did guys do this? Try to turn a "no" into a "yes"? I'd never understand it.

"There you are, sweetie," a male voice from down under said. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

I turned and my jaw dropped. It was Erik Mauer. Erik approached and wrapped his arm low around my waist. I immediately relaxed into him and took it up a notch by wrapping both of my arms around him.

"Can I help you, mate?" Erik asked the guy pointedly, a definite threat to his tone.

Werewolf dude looked Erik up and down debating whether or not he wanted to brawl, but that idea was quickly nixed when he grabbed the side of his head and started howling in pain. Several people stopped and stared but no one rushed to his side to lend him a hand. Once the man began staggering around, I stopped bursting the veins in his head allowing the man the opportunity to leave with what dignity he had left.

With him gone and clearly shaken, I fixed my eyes on Erik who looked a little worried and confused. Very slowly he slid his arm from around my shoulder leaving me no choice but to let him go.

"Thank you," I smiled appreciatively.

"You're welcome. I don't like it when men try to bully women."

I didn't like it either, which meant Erik and I had something else in common. "What are you doing here?" I asked very pleased to see him.

"I should be asking you that. You don't look like the type of woman who would be interested in race cars and motorcycles," his dimples winked at me.

I smiled. "Haven't you heard the expression of not judging a book by its cover?"

Erik's head bobbed up and down. The wind blew his obsidian locks over his forehead covering his left eye. The right eye, as blue as a clear sky, was focused on me so intensely I nearly forgot what I wanted to say next.

"So you're into motor sports?"Erik inquired.

"Yeah, I love anything with speed. I might not know my way around an engine, but I can change a flat."

"Wow, that's…impressive," Erik said and I got the sense he was trying not to laugh at my obvious cuteness. Or lie. But it was true. I could, in theory, change a flat tire.

"I feel like I should put that to the test. There are a few contests being held. And I think changing a tire on a race car might be one of them. We should go check it out," the tall New Zealander challenged me.

"Oh, I'd be up for it but I rather not emasculate anyone with my skills."

Erik laughed heartily at that and for a moment I wanted him to throw his arm over my shoulder and draw me closer. To my dismay he slipped one hand in his pocket, but to my delight the other brushed his locks away from his face causing his T-shirt to stretch over his chest and made his biceps and triceps flex. I blinked.

"You looked like you were on your way to the concession stand," Erik vaguely pointed in the direction of where I was previously headed, "when I first noticed you."

He noticed me, my heart fluttered. "Right," I shook my head to clear the fantasy fog away. "I didn't have breakfast this morning and the heat is starting to make itself known. Don't want to pass out due to lack of hydration."

"I'll walk with you and beat these guys back with a stick," he smiled charmingly.

"Thank you."

We began walking, not really saying anything. Erik kind of maneuvered people out of the way without being rude about it, cutting a path through the massive crowd that seemed to have doubled in size within minutes. The races were soon starting.

Erik and I stood in line for a good twenty minutes exchanging banter as if we were old friends. By the time we ordered—he paid for everything despite my protests and even when I told him I was here with a friend, still he insisted—our arms were loaded with hotdogs, beer, napkins, condiments, chips, and I managed to smuggle an ice cream sandwich into the mix.

We found Connor up in the stands, and I gave him his portion, and introduced him to Erik. Connor gave me a pointed look but then tuned his attention back to the race.

Plenty of times throughout the race when I would stand up to cheer, and I'd sit back down, I'd make sure my thigh brushed Erik's. He'd stare at me a bit curiously, but he never tried to make any sudden moves. I guess I wouldn't either if you had someone like Connor who looked armed and dangerous sitting on the opposite side of you.

The races were going to go on well into the night and I had already been there for several hours, so by the time five o'clock rolled around, I was ready to go, hop in a shower, settle in front of the TV and mentally prepare myself for another tedious week at work.

I nudged Connor with my elbow. "Hey, are you ready to leave? I'm exhausted."

"Just another hour, B," Connor pleaded. "My man is up next."

I huffed.

"If you're ready to leave I can see you home," Erik offered.

Needless to say I jumped at the chance. Connor didn't like the idea of my leaving with someone he didn't know from a can of paint, but it wasn't his decision to make. Erik might have been a stranger but he wasn't a complete stranger, and I was more than able to take care of myself, and had enough self-preservation but above that intelligence not to take him back to my place. Not until I knew for sure he could be trusted. I knew all too well that a handsome face didn't automatically equate being a good guy.

I gave Connor a hug goodbye and I promised I'd call him to let him know I made it home in one piece. Erik, once again, led the way through the crowd, then through the parking lot.

When we stopped in front of a sleek chrome-on-black motorcycle, I stared up at Erik almost in disbelief. This man looked like he should be shooting editorial ads for Nautica, Giorgio Armani, Versace, not Harley Davidson, although he had a sort of rugged appeal when he wasn't perfectly pieced together in tailored suits and groomed hair.

I pointed at the heavy piece of machinery. "I take it this is yours?"

Erik's grin was nothing short of cocky which sent an electric spear right through me. I don't know why I didn't notice until now he had been carrying a helmet with him this whole time. Maybe because I had been too preoccupied staring at his face, arms, chest, ass, everything!

"When I was in my twenties I was deep into motorcross racing. I was actually in the amateur league and ranked in the top twenty."

"That's really impressive. So you actually know how to handle one of these things and didn't buy one just to look cool?" and I wasn't saying this to flirt. No, mama had to make sure this man was no idiot on this thing that came equipped with nary a door, or seat belts, or air bags.

Erik stretched out the helmet to me. "I'm a risk taker when it comes to many things, Miss Bennett, but playing with someone's life isn't one of those things. Hop on. You won't regret it."

* * *

Putting my lunch into the refrigerator and taking out my mug from the cabinet, I didn't regret getting on the back of Erik's bike. I hadn't stopped thinking about him, squeezing his frame, holding on to him for dear life as he wove through traffic like a licensed pro since I went to bed. He traveled at speeds that were comfortable and reduced my active imagination from seeing my head busted open on the ground, considerably.

Smiling, I turned at the sound of someone entering the break room. My smile widened at my good friend Demeter Rose who was one of many financial analyst at CGI. But she was the smartest one in my opinion.

Demeter reminded me of my grandmother. Not to say she bore a physical resemblance to Grams, but her heart, her wit, her intelligence is what reminded me of my dear, late grandma. Demeter didn't suffer fools, and though she carried an open-door policy in where you could come to her for a sound piece of advice, do not expect your feelings to be taken into account on what she had to say. She was shrewd with words, knew who to trust and who to stay away from because there was always someone around looking to sabotage your career so they could get one step ahead.

Most people, when Demeter was in a sharing mood, became appalled and then later enthralled once she revealed her true age. She didn't look a day over thirty-five. She had beautiful terra cotta skin, slanted dark brown eyes, a crown of rich auburn hair, a full mouth "certain" women paid top dollar to have collagen injections to get what Demeter had naturally, and the best fashion sense for a woman in her age box.

You see, Demeter was pushing fifty. I didn't believe her, basically called her a liar when she told me what year she had been born in. It wasn't until I saw her driver's license, and even still I gave her major side-eye, that I began to let the truth sink into my head. Demeter was mother to four children. Two of them in high school, one soon to graduate, while the rest where in middle school. She worked out religiously, watched what she ate, hardly drank, didn't smoke, her only vice being chocolate.

She had a notorious sweet tooth.

If I were having a bad day at work, or just in general I'd slink off to her office when I was given a chance to escape my handlers, and she'd sit there and listen to me vent before, in a nice but firm way, tell me to get over myself.

"Hey, Bonnie. What's with the smile?" Demeter asked as she walked over to the double sink to rinse out her ceramic mug.

"I just had a good weekend. How was yours?"

"Charles," her husband, "took the boys driving and nearly had a stroke. Other than that things were pretty quiet. Took advantage of the weather and cooked out. What about you? Wait. Before you say anything, do we need to go to my office?"

I laughed at what she was implying. I may have told Demeter about one of my post-divorce trysts with Damon without going into too much graphic detail, but other than that one time I've pretty much kept the lid closed on my deeply personal and private life. You could make friends and acquaintances at work, but it was never a smart thing to spread your business around.

"Nope, hate to disappoint you, but my weekend was pretty tame, good, but tame."

Demeter pouted. She might have been happily married but like any other woman she still wanted to hear the deets of her single friends' exploits.

"Oh, well I thought the reason you were practically glowing like a disco ball might have had something to do with the man your boss is currently meeting with."

"What man?" I frowned as I poured steaming hot coffee into my mug. "There wasn't a meeting scheduled for this time on Mr. Grey's calendar."

Demeter shrugged but then dramatically fanned herself. "I only caught a glimpse of him but _girl_, I thought Mr. Grey was the prettiest man alive, but this guy whoever he is, beats him by miles."

Interest definitely piqued I wondered who it could have been. Mr. Grey was an early riser. I've come into the office plenty of times expecting to have the place to myself for a good thirty minutes, and I'd hear his voice bellowing from his office at seven in the morning. Usually he didn't take meetings before eight, so I was more than a little curious as to who was meeting with my boss—unscheduled I might add.

"Well, let me shuffle off and find out what's going on. It's supposed to rain today, but if it doesn't do you want to eat lunch on the roof?"

Demeter nodded and added creamer to her coffee. "Sure, doll. Just ring me up when you're ready to head out."

"All right, don't work too hard."

Leaving the break room and weaving my way through the office back to my desk, when I arrived, it was to a very strange sight.

Both Dakota and Cheryl were pressed up against Mr. Grey's closed door. I stared at them for a moment wondering how long it would take either of them to sense me, to sense they had been caught blatantly snooping. When the seconds flirted with becoming a full minute, I pointedly cleared my throat shocking both women who whirled around to face me.

"Good morning, ladies. I'm sure you know it's impolite to spy on our boss."

Both of their cheeks turned a bright pink. Cheryl was quicker to compose herself as she glared at me stonily before righteously making her way back to her desk. Dakota appeared as if she were in a trance as she headed off to hers. I shook my head at them both and sat down in my chair.

I pecked away at my keyboard answering questions, sending out follow-up correspondence, making calls when the door to Mr. Grey's office opened.

"I won't be making any final decisions until the end of the month. If you have any further questions you can contact me or one of my assistants. They're more than adept to help you."

"Thank you, Mr. Grey."

No.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as my boss walked out of his office with someone trailing after him. That someone I knew intimately. Someone who should not have brought his undead ass here, and someone I was going to _kill _if he came here looking specifically to throw my job under the freaking bus.

Damon fucking Salvatore waltzed his pretty ass out into the common area. He shook hands with Mr. Grey, then directed his heat-seeking gaze on Cheryl who actually dropped her telephone receiver as she hastily stood to her feet awaiting her next set of instructions. Dakota was practically drooling and me…

I was glaring. _Hard_.

"Miss Bennett," I heard my boss say but unfortunately my eyes didn't follow protocol. They were still locked on Damon.

"Yes, Mr. Grey," I replied hoping there wasn't a drop of venom in my tone. When I finally peeled my eyes off Damon who stared at me impassively, as if he didn't know me, I saw that my boss looked displeased. Straightening up my spine, fixing my attitude, I rose from my seat and presented my Bonnie Sue façade. "What can I help you with?"

The hardness to Mr. Grey's eyes melted only a single degree. "Would you be so kind as to show Mr. Salvatore out?"

I curtly nodded my head, rounded my desk, and walked up to two of the finest pieces of male ass you could find on this side of the Mississippi. That opinion may be a matter of perspective, but seeing Damon and Christian standing side-by-side, Christian standing about two inches taller than my ex, but they virtually carried the same build and were wearing the hell out of their Italian made suits—Christian's was gray, naturally, Damon's was black—with those glacial eyes of theirs…

Pulse was racing and there wasn't a darn thing I could do about it. Instead of gawking, I merely looked at the wall behind both of them, offered up another smile, before shifting course abruptly to head to the bank of elevators.

"Right this way, Mr. Salvatore," I sang wickedly sweet over my shoulder.

I pressed heavily on the down arrow and resisted the urge to tap my foot against the carpet. What was Damon doing here? What was my boss doing facilitating meetings with my ex? I thought back to the "manual" I had to fill out when I applied for this job and it asked me to list my previous names. Bonnie Salvatore had been my one and only alias, and Mr. Grey was an apparently smart man to have a built a company out of nothing to the successful conglomerate it was today. That being said, he should have been able to put two-and-two together and come to the obvious conclusion that Damon Salvatore might be my ex-husband. Therefore, going into business with him should have warranted an extreme conflict of interest.

Unless ex-husband tampered with my boss' ability to think rationally.

Damon was practically standing on top of me as we waited for the elevator to arrive on this floor. Once the ding sounded, I turned to him, still glaring.

"I don't know what you're doing…" I was hauled into the elevator with him. I pulled my arm away. And the doors closed me in with him. "What are you doing? I'm not supposed to be on this elevator with you!"

Damon, the personal space offender, stood less than six inches away from me. My back was kissing the wall and with the help of my heels I could almost look him right in the eye.

"Why are you here, Damon? What are you doing?"

"There's an opening on the board and I thought why not give it a go. You're always telling me to do _something _productive with my immortality rather than sending people to an early grave," he leered.

I pushed him away and stomped to the other side of the lift. "This isn't a game, Damon. Do you even know what this company does? Do you meet any of the qualifications? No, you don't! What you're trying to do might cost me my job. Have you thought about that? If you somehow got the position and Mr. Grey found out that we were married and neither one of us disclosed that information…?"

Damon shrugged nonchalantly. "He already knows."

I sputtered.

"I was nothing but honest with him. He knows we were married. Would you believe I actually sat down and read the company manifesto? It was a slow night and I was out of bourbon," he replied flippantly. "There was nothing in the company policy that said spouses couldn't work together. You can, just in different departments and since you work for the CEO…"

"Who is also the Chairman of the Board!" I interrupted. "So technically, dickweed, I work for the board as well."

That shut Damon up for a second but then his mouth was running again. "That's just a minor technicality. You help assist at meetings by passing out candy."

My fingers shrank into talons at the veiled insult that what I did was fluff work.

Luckily for his precious eyes, the elevator slowed to a smooth stop, and someone boarded with us. Then out of nowhere three additional people hopped on. I shifted until I was standing in front of my douchebag of an ex.

Things were remarkably quiet until one of the passengers turned to someone and started talking about something of no interest to me.

Damon's wayward hand found its way to my hip and I promptly ignored him, gave no outward sign that I was beyond enraged with him. He was putting my job in jeopardy and acted as if it were no big deal. I hadn't worked this hard for my independence just for him to come in here and screw things up because he was bored or thought he was making some grand Shakespearean, John Hughes gesture of winning me back.

I mashed the heel of my pump into his toe as hard as I could. Damon's hand tightened on my hip and he may have groaned a bit but that was all.

The annoying elevator stopped on the eighth floor and two more people got on, which meant my buttocks was now pressing into Damon's crotch.

Within seconds he was hard and my toes curled in my shoes, but I held on to my anger and didn't let arousal override anything. However, it became increasingly difficult as Damon began to slowly grind against me.

"Stop it," I whispered low enough for only his ears to be able to pick up.

He did the exact opposite by pulling me flush against him. Nothing separated us except our clothing. The imprint of his dick was basically sandwiched between my cheeks. My face, I'm sure, was flushed, and I cleared my throat and cursed the stupid elevator to go faster and arrive at the lobby so I wouldn't do something stupid or rash.

The comforting 'ding' sounded and everyone unloaded off the elevator. I jerked away from Damon and stepped out into the lobby. I folded my arms tightly over my chest and waited for him to saunter out. He did but not without having to adjust himself or he would have alerted everyone of his self-induced predicament.

"Why won't you leave me alone?" I asked bitterly.

"Surprisingly, Bonnie this has nothing to do with you. Not explicitly. I'm not sure how much you know of all the projects your boss fields, but there's one that's drawn my particular attention. It has to deal with cloned blood, and that's all I can say right now. You have a good day."

I watched Damon slip through the glass doors, stroll across the street where his Lamborghini was parked, and climb inside.

Cloned blood? My boss was getting involved with something that had to deal with cloned blood? What exactly was Mr. Grey dipping his hand into? But most importantly what was Damon's plan?

Chapter end.

**A/N: For some, it might've seem that Bonnie was being unreasonable towards Damon because he killed a coven of witches to save her, but in truth, we've barely scratched the surface of why their marriage ended. That was just one of many reasons, but not the primary reason. I've dropped a few more clues in this chapter, but I have yet to delve into the heart of the matter. Now with Damon possibly becoming a board member at her place of business what will this mean for their relationship? And some were curious if you'd see any of the "gang" from MF, and right now I only have, in my head at least, a future chapter featuring Caroline and Stefan, everyone else, I haven't really planned for them to pop up in this, but that could all change depending on how this story continues to develop. Thank you so much guys for reading! Until next time, love you. **


	5. Wear A Blue Dress

**A/N: Happy Memorial Day everyone! Hope you had a safe holiday. Here is the latest. This chapter features mostly Bonnie/Christian. Hopefully you'll still enjoy it, and won't be too mad at me. Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters (with the exception of Christian Gray; he belongs to EL James, and my OC's) are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

It was the Friday before July 4th and I was presently on vacation but currently bored out of my mind. Oh, sure I could easily rectify the situation by calling up Bex, tell her to get dolled up, and meet me at our favorite watering hole, but for once I wasn't in a partying mood. In all honesty, I felt like I've been going or attending one soiree after another since I hit puberty. Mystic Falls was notorious for throwing parties and balls and galas to celebrate the town's history while naturally overlooking the fact it was a slave town, but why tarnish people's antiquated perception of their place of birth with such garish facts?

It never exactly thrilled me to see girls walking around in their custom made Scarlett O'Hara gowns and guys doing their level best to exude Clark Gable's southern charm, but missed the mark by leaps and bounds. I mostly hovered in the background. I was conveniently overlooked when it came time for the Miss Mystic Falls pageant, but in reality I shouldn't have been. You see, although my family history was rich, could trace my family tree back to a good two-thousand years ago, in terms of the local "government" acknowledging that my family was in fact "the" founding family of Mystic Falls—before it was called Mystic Falls—had been labeled as taboo. Controversial. People's heads would explode if they knew that my ancestor Ayanna (lo and behold a black woman) had been the protector of those lands in Virginia before the so-called founding families moved in, claimed something that wasn't there's to claim, and then made up all these stupid rules and traditions.

With my father as acting Mayor he had the power and authority to tell the true history of the town, but my dad was much like me in the sense he didn't want to ruffle feathers, or draw unnecessary attention to himself. Then of course, he'd have to explain the supernatural element of the town, and apparently he didn't have time for that.

Needless to say the Fourth was a huge holiday in Mystic Falls. There would be Civil War battle reenactments, parades, balls, boring, uninspiring speeches, a pageant—always had to have a pageant, one massive barbeque, while ending the night with fireworks.

None of it made me the least bit homesick or nostalgic. This Fourth I wanted to have fun and if possible get slippery and wet and you can interpret that anyway you like.

Packing my bags and throwing up the deuces to Mystic Falls was a move I probably should have made long before my divorce was finalized. Plenty of times Damon tried to convince me to move, to see more of the world, but I was always stuck on stupid. I was afraid to leave the town, unsure of who or what might spring up, and not knowing what could happen to the people I loved and cared about in my absence. That place was one large shackle attached to my ankle, and no matter how many sticks of dynamite, or electric saws, or hammers I used to try to break my way free, it never budged until I finally got fed up with how things were going.

Now I guess you could argue that I love my life here in Seattle Lake. I don't wake up in the morning automatically reaching for my grimoire, or stared at my phone waiting for someone to call with an emergency. I operated like a normal human being, despite my powers, got up in the morning to go to work, paid my bills, made friends who only wanted to have a good time and didn't need constant saving, and I enjoyed it. Immensely.

However, things from my past wanted to keep creeping up, springing up, forcing themselves into my life.

Case in point, the ex.

The minute I left work on Monday partially livid, I called Damon up with the sole intent to bomb him out. He must've expected it because he turned his cell completely off. I knew where he lived, in theory, and I could easily perform a locator spell to find him, but then I had to stop and ask myself, why? What would I say to him? What would be the point in me arguing with him about something when clearly he already made up his mind about it? Damon was going to do what he wanted regardless of what I had to say, and it was a lesson he repeatedly had to school me on much to my chagrin. I didn't know what was going on, and Damon didn't help by leaving behind that small breadcrumb. A crumb I tried to turn into a loaf of bread with absolutely no success.

After seeing him off, I had returned to my desk and tried to get some info on Christian Grey Industries dealings with cloned blood. There had been nothing. I wondered if it was a restricted project—more than likely it was—and the only people to have access to those files would be Mr. Grey, certain members of the board, and the implementation, engineering team. Mr. Grey dabbled in nearly everything from: publishing, agriculture, aeronautics, and various other things that his reach was vast and his influence great.

So for now I had to let it go.

Starting my vacation with a headache was the last thing I wanted, so I poured myself a glass of chardonnay after eating some really good albeit greasy Thai, sat behind my Mac and logged on to my favorite chat room.

Before I landed my job at CGI I had plenty of time on my hands and didn't know what to do with it. I tried joining a book club at a nearby Barnes & Noble's, but the books the club selected were sleep-inducing. I didn't last two weeks. Rebekah had suggested that I reach out and try to find other witches and warlocks in the area, but I dodged that idea because I didn't want to get sucked into anything. I escaped Mystic Falls to get out of the supernatural world, not to hop back in it.

On the nights where sleep turned elusive and insomnia nearly became my live-in boyfriend, I'd surf the web looking for something to occupy myself. That's where I found this chat room for adults who experienced issues with taking full ownership of their sexuality, or of letting go of inhibitions. I wouldn't say I was repressed in this area as a product of some kind of childhood or adolescent trauma that left me scarred and afraid of intimacy, of sex. I was out there compliments of my freaky-deaky ex, but I was always in the mood to try something different.

Every single night a different question was asked of the community. You weren't obligated to post your response, but it was encouraged to answer the question as openly and honestly as possible. Most of the time, our problems bloomed from our head, from our thoughts in how we perceived ourselves. Your perception became your reality, and this chat room looked to alter that reality. Reconstruct and break people out of bondage.

Or put them in bondage. Tee-hee.

I signed in, and then read through a couple of responses from the question that was posted last night. Wow, people were freaks! Nasty freaks!

Clearing my throat, I clicked on tonight's question.

_Have you ever fantasized about fucking your boss?_

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow to that question. Sitting my wineglass down, I pondered that question for a moment. I thought back to last week where my boss fondled my ankle. I thought of how his fingers felt against my skin and that rush, that tingle which was left in its wake the second he stopped touching me. I thought about those steel gray eyes of his and how they narrowed slightly when I told him I didn't bruise easily. I thought of the fact he checked out my ass. I thought of his smell, something expensive but surprisingly non-pretentious. Christian Grey was the kind of man any woman with a working libido would fantasize about, and yep I could honestly say I wasn't immune to having a dirty thought or two about him. Not when I was on the clock, though. I had a feeling that The Blondes were telepathic and the last thing I wanted was to be reprimanded for sexual harassment.

Sometimes I did picture myself walking into Mr. Grey's office where he'd reprimand me for sending out an incorrect report. I'd beg and plead for him not to fire me because I liked what I did, and I liked assisting him, and he'd tell me to bend over his desk, lift my skirt because he was going to spank me and…

Welp, I guess I did fantasize about my boss.

Hands poised over the keyboard I started tying up my answer and then hit the "send" button once I was finished. Picking up my wineglass I took another sip and held the cranberry liquid in my mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. The wine was sweet but bitter going down. I didn't like it all that much but it was the last bottle I had in my stash.

_If your boss was with you right now, would you seduce him or her?_

Um, _yeah _but that would be after I made sure I'd still have a job once everything was over and done with.

I quickly typed up another response and sent it, then moved on to another question that had nothing to do with bosses. I was on vacation and the official rule was: work stayed at work. And Mr. Grey was included in that.

I scrolled through the chat questions trying to find something that might actually challenge me for a change. Asking someone if they were into S&M, if they'd ever consider participating in a threesome or gangbang didn't really push the envelope in my opinion. Those were yes or no response questions, but having someone write out in full and explicit detail on what they would do if they were in that situation is what made things interesting.

Something caught my eye and I stopped to read it out loud. "Give an account of your most erotic experience. Be as vague or as detailed as you like and then, if you're brave, send the response to someone you are crushing on, cyber stalking through social media, or to someone you used to bang but are still on good terms with, non-anonymously." Were they nuts! Or trying to get someone arrested?

I tapped my nails against my cherry wood desk—contemplating.

What was my most erotic experience? Did I want to recount prom night circa 2011? I had made Damon wait an entire year before giving him my cherry, and though he did his very best to make it as satisfying for me as it probably was for him, I remember nothing aside from that inexplicable burst of pain that ripped through me the second he buried his penis in me. But prom had occurred three weeks later and having sex finally stopped feeling like Damon was trying to murder my vagina. It was the first time I came from penetration alone. It was wonderful but not really erotic.

Maybe I could talk about my wedding night but that was too romantic. That time at the baseball game?

Umm…

Then it came to me. This experience really had nothing to do with Damon although he did profit from it later. I began typing.

_It was during my junior year in college and I was at the library studying for finals. The good thing about the library was the fact the hours were extended to accommodate the crowd and remained open twenty-four hours. I had holed myself up on the top floor, the third floor that mostly consisted of reference materials and study rooms. I locked myself inside of one and only left to use the bathroom, sneak out and smuggle food from the cafeteria. I never left for good until I was thoroughly exhausted, and had pumped my brain with enough information to regurgitate on sight of a question. _

_Well, at some point exhaustion caught up with me and I fell asleep on the hard table. The lights in the study room were motion censored and since I hadn't moved in a really long time they shut off, but the minute I heard a loud bang coming from the study room adjacent to mine, I snapped up and groaned because the harsh florescent lighting beamed on and blinded me. At first I was disoriented and confused. Couldn't remember where I was or what I had been doing until I felt the indentation my pencil left on my face when I rubbed it to wake myself up, did I remember I was at the library trying to cram a semesters worth of knowledge about film and literature into my head. _

_As I began to reorganize my notes, the ones that survived not being drooled on, I heard a commotion and halted. Soon giggles and a manly chuckle dominated the otherwise silent air, and my eyes had grown as big as saucers especially when the notorious sound of a zipper going down made itself known._

"_You sure you want to do this here? We could get caught," said a nervous but willing female. _

"_That's the best part. The possibility of getting caught fucking in public."_

_Say what? My eyes had blinked rapidly. Were two people seriously about to get busy in a third floor study room at the library?_

"_Just try to be quiet. Come here," the guy had said to his companion. _

_I guess so._

_Two mouths latched on greedily. The sound of their kissing reminded me of slick skin hitting slick skin, but was later overwhelmed by a deep groan. I imagined that the girl was probably stroking the guy's shaft teasing him with her hand and fingers. It's what I liked to do, before squeezing right under the mushroom head._

_I had to ask myself why was I just sitting there listening instead of hastily packing my things and leaving. I could blame my inaction on curiosity, or the fact I had been on a self-imposed celibacy so I could concentrate on my finals. Damon could last no more than two days, three tops without sex, I could go a month, but at the time we hadn't been intimate in close to three weeks. I felt my body responding to the noises coming from the study room, and I licked my dry lips, breathing hard. Anticipating._

_There was some shifting and then the guy groaned again, real guttural borderline animalistic. It was the sound of a man being enveloped by a warm and eager mouth. _

_So I sat there and listened to the slurping sounds stemming from a wet mouth taking a hardened length into it before teasing it with a skilled an artful tongue. The guy, let's call him Jeff certainly was enjoying himself by giving the girl, we'll name her Sarah, several compliments, praises, and instructions._

"_Suck that shit," was by far Jeff's most favorite thing to say._

"_You like it, baby?" Sarah asked rhetorically but it didn't stop Jeff from answering._

"_Hell yeah! Fuck. Your mouth is so fucking good!" he whispered enthusiastically. _

"_I'm so wet, Jeff," Sarah told him before returning to her blow job duties. _

_At one point I laughed because who the hell talked like that during sex? It sounded so staged. _

"_Did you hear something?" Sarah had asked and immediately all the blood rushed to my head and ears. I guess they figured they were alone up here. _

"_No. Just suck me off, baby," Jeff intoned in a desperate voice._

_The girl returned to her duties and then Jeff was sputtering and begging for his companion to stop before he shot his load down her fucking mouth, his exact words. He must have come regardless because he apologized sheepishly. _

_I heard them shuffling, exchanging positions and the rustling of clothing being removed. _

"_I love your tits," Jeff said and proceeded to gobble them. I could hear him kissing her breasts ardently._

_My own nipples were whimpering for some kind of attention. I could help ease their ache but that would have been crossing a line for me. _

_Sarah moaned loudly and mewled and by that point my hand kept wanting to make its way into my jeans but I had resisted. I never once considered myself a voyeur and really this was just an accidental encounter with a pair of horny undergrad students who were studying anatomy just not in the traditional sense. Of course I felt bad and thought all three of us would get caught, but I probably wasn't the only person listening, so I tried to relax and just listen._

_For about ten minutes Jeff ate his way into the history books. _

_Sarah was panting heavily, "Did you bring it?"_

"_It's in my pocket."_

_Good, they practiced safe sex. There was more movement and then I heard the familiar sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open and then applied. _

"_Spread your legs, baby," Jeff had advised. "Fuck, your cunt is so wet."_

_My eyes crossed and when Jeff entered Sarah and the both of them groaned in satisfaction I was right there with them. The rhythmic sound of their mating, humping against the table, Sarah trying to unsuccessfully stifle her screams and cries of pleasure, the periodic slap of a hand on a firm ass, made me forget I had a final in less than five hours and had only made my way through half of the material. I didn't care. _

_Sweat had beaded along my hairline and upper lip, and when Sarah started chanting she was coming, and she pleaded with Jeff to pinch her clit, she let out a piercing scream followed quickly by Jeff grunting and cursing._

_My heavy breathing matched theirs and a smile bloomed on my face. Quickly I gathered my things while they got themselves together. I had dug my cell phone out of my bag and called Damon up on speed dial._

"_Where are you?"_

_That night I learned about Alfred Hitchcock's use of foreshadowing as I was bent over a table. _

By the time I was finished typing the seat of my panties were wet, my heart was beating erratically as if I ran a mile, and I was starving. I had been brutally reminded why I only logged on to this chat room once a month. It stirred up feelings and emotions I had no way of expressing unless I took care of myself, or I did the unthinkable and called up the one person I should stay away from.

I read over what I had typed twice, made corrections, and then I sat and thought for a moment. There was no way in hell this "story" would ever travel through fiber optic wiring to arrive in Damon's or anyone's inbox. It was too private, too embarrassing that I, little Bonnie Bennett sat and listened to two strangers having sex and nearly jilled myself off just to be apart of the festivities. No one needed to know these things about me, not to say I was trying to uphold some kind of saintly impression. I enjoyed sex about as much as the next person but it didn't rule my life.

I saved the document into my personal file and then shut down my system. Picking up my half empty glass of chardonnay, I strolled over to my floor-to-ceiling windows and peered out.

Night was probably my favorite time of day. The world seemed to slow down or speed up and it was your choice whether or not you wanted to go out on the prowl in designer threads, or merely remain behind opulently decorated high walls and watch a really good movie.

Loneliness didn't care what the time of day was to be fair and could sneak up on anyone unsuspectingly. This loneliness that was trying to sprout up was different because it was mainly self-imposed. I missed my friends from back home but because so much time had passed I wasn't sure if they wanted to hear from or see me again. I mean, if I placed myself in their shoes, was cut out of someone's life without warning that person would be the last person I'd want to hear from.

Still, my ex-husband was right. As much as it pained me to say it. I had divorced him, not Caroline and not Stefan.

Just as I made up my mind to call Caroline, my phone started ringing. My brow furrowed as I retraced my steps through the living room to answer. I stared at the name and number flashing on the neon blue LCD screen and my eyes ballooned.

What was my boss doing calling me at eight o'clock at night on a Friday knowing I was officially on vacation and not to be disturbed?

Of course I didn't have the luxury of asking him such a question, as I sucked in a deep breath and reached down in my goodie bag to pull out Bonnie Sue who was always ready, willing, and able to serve with a smile on her face. I answered the phone.

"Good evening, Mr. Grey," hopefully I didn't sound like a phone sex operator when I said that because that's what it sounded like to my ears.

There was a slight pregnant pause before Mr. Grey's voice came on the line. "Good evening, Miss Bennett. I'm sorry to call you on a Friday and on your vacation no less, but I require your assistance on a matter."

I ran towards my kitchen to grab a pen and rifled through my junk drawer until I located a memo pad. "What is it, Mr. Grey?"

"Usually it's the first assistant's job to accompany me to various functions, meetings when needed, but unfortunately Mrs. Prescott is under the weather, and Dakota is out of town…I guess I should ask where your current whereabouts are before I launch into exactly why I'm calling."

"I'm in town. I'm available."

"Excellent. Tonight I'm being honored at a charity fundraiser something that honestly slipped my mind in light of certain events. I need you with me."

Well, if that wasn't blunt. Inwardly, I pouted. I didn't want to work tonight, but there was another part of me, equally as loud that said: I volunteer as tribute!

"Ah, yes, sir," I stammered and put the pen down and the memo pad away. "Do I need to make any kind of arrangements…?"

"No, everything has already been taken care of. I just need you," there was emphasis on the _you_, but my mind might have misinterpreted that. "May I be so bold as to suggest that you wear blue tonight? The fundraiser is for a charity that supports building wells, and water purification systems in underdeveloped countries."

Did I have anything blue in my closet that was formal? Maybe.

"I'll try my best to look presentable, Mr. Grey. When should I be ready by?"

"As soon as possible. Taylor is pulling up outside of your building as we speak."

My stomach bottom out. My boss was here? Right now? Right when I'm prancing around in nothing but an extremely tight T-shirt and boy shorts that had been getting Biblical with me all night? I needed to shower to remove the stench of my arousal, and it would take me a good hour just to find something decent and fitting for attending a late-night fundraiser. Mind you, a fundraiser that was honoring my boss who had extremely high standards.

"I'll see you in a little while," I said informally and hung up the phone before Christian could do so.

I stood still for a second, my mind a total blank. Was this really happening? Was I really about to attend a function with my boss? Just the two of us? No other judgmental eyes looking, waiting, and anticipating I make a colossal mistake to be tossed out of favor and on my ass before bouncing to the unemployment line?

I shook myself and raced off to my room where I hooked a sharp left, entered the bathroom, threw on the shower, before shooting out and landing in my closet where I searched both racks trying to find anything blue.

"Ah ha," I nabbed a royal blue Dolce & Gabana dress that still had the price tag attached to it, grabbed some tasteful yet skimpy underwear, and then looked through individual cubby holes where I stored my shoes until I found my silver studded Christian Louboutin's. My feet were already screaming and I hadn't stuck a single toe inside because those shoes weren't made for comfort but to earn oneself style points.

Throwing my items on the bed, I peeled off my lounge attire, took the world's fastest but thorough shower, and attempted to do fifteen things at once.

Knowing your boss was literally sitting in his car counting the seconds until you appeared turned me into an absolute klutz. I dropped everything I touched, almost burned myself in unsightly places with the flat iron, poked my eyes repeatedly with my mascara wand, and ended up putting more lipstick on my teeth than my actual mouth.

"Okay, you need to calm down, get it together, and relax," I coached myself and began to do my breathing exercises that helped diminish my anxiety.

I stared at my reflection and thought not bad. My dress with its excellent detail hugged me in all the right places, lifted me where I needed to be lifted, and flattened out what needed to be flattened out. I had parted my long ebony hair on one side, pinned back a section behind my ear, while the rest covered my right eye a la Veronica Lake. I kept my makeup simple and elegant: a little kohl around the eye, I was very liberal with the mascara since I didn't have time to put on my falsies, and I chose a blackberry hue lipstick for a hint of drama. A spritz of Dior perfume and I was ready to go.

Instead of taking my huge purse with me, I grabbed a beaded clutch and stuffed my pertinent things inside: keys, ID, gum, lip gloss, cell, compact mirror, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer. Doing a security check around my apartment to make sure I didn't leave anything on that might start a fire, I left, took the elevator to the lobby, and walked through the revolving glass door.

Taylor, in a black suit and white shirt stood poised on the sidewalk next to a sleek black-on-black Bentley Phantom.

"Good evening, Miss Bennett," Taylor greeted me and opened up the back passenger door.

"Hi, Taylor," I smiled and wanted to toss him a compliment but remembered who he worked for, but most importantly who was waiting inside the car.

I slid in across the butterscotch leather seat and tried not to act like I had never been inside a Phantom—which I hadn't—and show my country bumpkin colors. I schooled my features as if this sort of thing happened to me everyday and I was bored and unimpressed with wealth as I looked across the seat at my boss. I literally had to keep my jaw from landing in my lap.

Mr. Grey was wearing a tailored dark blue, almost navy suit. The material, I wanted to say was satin, but it wasn't, cost a good mint. Mr. Grey had elected not to wear a tie or to button the top three buttons of his crisp white shirt which left a little of his chest exposed but not so much to cause cardiac arrest. No, his face and tousled copper hair with those piercing silver-gray eyes would do the trick in sending an unsuspecting woman into an early grave.

I cleared my throat and wondered if I should reach out to shake Mr. Grey's hand. I thought against it, folded my hands in my lap, and merely inclined my head.

"Good evening, Mr. Grey."

"Good evening, Bonnie."

Hearing him say my name, I'm not going to lie, made my heart beat just a little faster. He made it sound so…so…erotic! That stupid chat room was making me read into things that weren't there.

"Thank you for accompanying me on such short notice. I promise…it won't happen again."

"You pay me to be at your disposal, Mr. Grey," I almost called him Christian. I was tempted to slip up and do it just to see if he would correct me, or merely narrow those eyes of his that could possibly freeze hell.

I redirected my attention forward as Taylor put the car in motion and pulled away from the curb. I could feel my boss' eyes on me. I had crossed my legs and occasionally swung my foot.

"How is your ankle?" Mr. Grey asked.

I turned to face him and was a little shocked that he was openly staring at my legs. I had applied Oil of Olay Quench to my stems and even in the muted light filtering into the car, they shined.

"Its fine, sir."

My eyes stayed planted on Christian as his orbs began to roam upward, covering every single square inch of me until he was looking at me full on.

There weren't many people who could make a gaze feel like a caress. Damon had been the only other person with that ability and now I could add my boss to the list.

I gulped a bit.

"Christian Louboutin?" Mr. Grey inquired.

I nodded.

"Five inches if I'm not mistaken."

I nodded again. I might have missed it if I had blinked, but a corner of Christian's pale pink lips lifted in a smirk before it vanished and he quickly looked away. Hmm, did he have a foot fetish?

Things were quiet for a while. The radio had been tuned to the NPR station but the volume was kept low. I strained to listen to the news being reported as a way to keep my thoughts pure and far, far away from the immaculately dressed man sitting a foot and some change away from me.

"Would you like something to drink, Bonnie?"

Still calling me by my first name. Hmm. Did this mean anything? Probably not. Mr. Grey was probably just trying to be nice or make me feel more at ease. I'm his assistant but for all intents and purposes I was his date. We were dressed similarly—well, rocking outfits in different shades of blue, but still if we were photographed as I'm sure photographers would be wherever the fundraiser was being held, that's the first thought that would pop into everyone's mind.

"No, thank you, Mr. Grey."

"I think for tonight we can let formality go and you may call me Christian."

Yes, massa.

"May I ask a question, Mr…I mean, Christian?" I waited until I had my boss' full attention before continuing. "Why didn't you want to attend this fundraiser alone?"

Uncertainly flashed on Christian's face, not exactly an emotion I would ever expect him to wear.

"I supposed I had that option, but I usually attend this particular fundraiser with one of my assistants in the off chance I run into a colleague and an emergency meeting has to take place. I just like being prepared."

"Oh."

"Did you think there was another reason I disturbed your holidays plans, Miss Bennett?"

Back to Miss Bennett, did I offend him or something?

I quickly shook my head. "I've always had a curious streak, Mr. Grey—,"

"Christian," he corrected.

"Christian," I repeated like a parrot. "If I'm attending an off-site event or meeting I like to be prepared as well."

"That's quite understandable. As such, I want you to take an additional day of vacation for this inconvenience."

"I can't do that. I can't leave Cheryl and Dakota to handle my responsibilities," like hell I couldn't. Those heifers had been dumping all the grunt work on me since I started, which I expected, but by now we all should have been handling the workload in equal measure. Instead, they tasked me with what they considered menial work while they managed the bigger projects. The kind of projects that looked real impressive on resumes.

Christian slighted me with a look that basically read: cut the modesty bullshit and be real. You didn't want to come to work anyways.

Demurely I stared down at my hands and tried not to smile.

A sound, a cross between a grunt and a chuckle came from my boss. My head flew up and I looked at him and he was still staring at me.

"I don't think I told you how beautiful you look tonight," Christian maintained eye contact, his face serious and unreadable. Soon I learned I had to listen to his tone in order to gauge his mood. Not once had he spoken in his usual deep, monotone octave. The bass in his voice was still there, but his words were said with more animation, more life.

I blushed profusely and didn't think it would be appropriate for me to compliment him on his looks, and he didn't appear as if he were waiting for me to regale him on what a hot piece of ass he was.

"Thank you, I tried my best with the time I had."

Christian smiled, not a full blown smile, but a smile nonetheless and if anything it only made him more insanely attractive. Not fair.

"You don't have any major plans for the Fourth?" he went back to probing.

I shook my head. "I was going to stay in town, go to the festival, and then charter a boat to Boone Island to watch the fireworks with a few friends. What about you, Mr.—I mean Christian?"

"Tonight, once the fundraiser is over and Taylor drops you off at home, I'm on a flight to Vancouver. I've never been to Boone Island now that I think about it. Have you been there before?"

"Once," I answered. "It was December and I don't recommend you go there during the winter. It was bitterly cold and I was staying with a close friend at the time. Her furnace had gone out, so we spent the weekend huddled in front of her gas fireplace. I came down with a cold and was miserable."

"Sorry to hear that. Cold weather isn't your thing?"

"No," I laughed somehow starting to feel at ease around the man who signed my paycheck. Now that I thought about it, I could say this was my first conversation with Christian Grey that had nothing to do with work. We were just two people talking, making conversation, until we reached our destination. Which brought up another question. One I didn't realize I should have asked until we were almost at the venue.

"Where are we going?" I questioned.

"To the Palisades," Christian answered and then pulled a bottle of water from some secret compartment and helped himself to a sip.

The Palisades was like Beverly Hills to Seattle Lake. It was where the rich of the rich, the wealthiest of the wealthiest laid their heads. I didn't stop to think that we might in fact be traveling to my boss' home. He had estates, condos, and flats all over the world since he didn't like staying in hotels unless they had five stars or more when he traveled.

"Are we going to your home?"

"No, to a friend's home. I live in a penthouse suite in a high-rise located in Centre City."

Right, of course he did. Silly me for thinking he lived in a mansion with fifty-eleven rooms.

"So cold weather isn't your thing?" Christian picked up our original conversation.

"I don't mind the cold, but I'm not a fan of it. Being from Virginia, not every Christmas was a white Christmas and it did get to below freezing, but it was nothing like it was on Boone Island. My preference is warm weather a perfect eighty degrees with low humidity."

"Hmm," my boss mumbled non-commitally. "You traveled much before moving here?"

"A little. I've been to Italy at least half a dozen times. I've been to Paris, Germany, and Morocco."

Christian looked as impressed as I figured he could look. He must have assumed I was going to name all the states I had traveled to, but nope thanks to Damon I did get out of the continental US and saw other parts of the world.

And speaking of Damon, now would have been the perfect time for me to grill Mr. Grey about the possibility of my ex filling one of the board member positions. How Damon was even eligible, got an interview with my boss was the mystery question. Damon never held a job, but he always held a position. He had been head of the Council in Mystic Falls, and what he did before then, he mostly just lived his life as a vampire with little care or thought of the future.

As much as I wanted answers was it really my place to tell my boss what to do with _his_ company? If he thought Damon was a good fit, please excuse me while I laugh, could I tell, warn him about the possible wolf he was letting into the sheep pasture?

I was mostly worried about my own pasture if you get my drift, but Damon serving on the board didn't mean we'd encounter each other everyday. The board only met quarterly, and though they were always welcomed to stop by for a visit at any time, they weren't required to clock in and out nor were they assigned offices.

I would have to keep mum about this for now.

"Is there any country, city, or state you haven't traveled to, Christian?"

Mr. Grey raised a bottle of Evian to his mouth and took a generous sip before answering. Seeing someone drink should not be a turn on. This dude was turning out to be a walking billboard of UST.

"South Dakota."

I laughed.

"We're here, Mr. Grey," Taylor's voice interrupted our twenty questions game.

The car was brought to a stop in front of a palatial and I do mean _palatial _home. Home was too inadequate almost an insult to describe this place that looked nothing short of a museum with its red brick Neo-classical structure. My door was opened and a hand was pulling me out onto sandy colored rocks. I adjusted my dress and then waited for Mr. Grey to join me.

He extended his arm and I took it and gave no outward sign that I was clutching his bicep which bulged under my fingers. I quickly glanced up at him and once again his face was mercurial. Nothing got in and nothing got out.

"Have a good evening, Mr. Grey, Miss Bennett," Taylor said before leaving to park the car where the others were stashed.

"Oh, believe me," I heard Christian say quietly. "I will."

My eyebrows lifted at the proclamation and then I was walking in step with Mr. Grey.

Walking up the concrete steps and the massive front patio, we entered the swanky atrium. My eyes glanced up and up and on the ceiling was a beautiful mirage, an exact replica of the _Creation of Adam_. My Christian Loub's clicked against a superbly polished cream and white marble floor. I kind of gripped Christian's arm tighter to make sure I didn't fall.

Mr. Grey overlapped my fingers with his. I craned my neck up, eyes crashing into his. He nodded infinitesimally and I repeated the action. He wouldn't let me fall and embarrass myself and ultimately embarrass him.

"You can hold me as tight as you need to. I don't bruise easily, either," his pupils dilated and when I dipped my gaze to his mouth his lips had separated and I could see a hint of his perfectly straight white teeth.

"Okay," I whispered a bit breathlessly. My pink parts peaked, stretched, and tightened.

Christian led the way through the labyrinth of this private residence to the in-house ballroom. It was decorated in an 18th century French style. I half expected Maria Antoinette to pop out of nowhere and say: Let them eat cake. Though, yes, I knew she never actually said that during the bread shortage in France.

But seriously who lived here? Even though I was wearing a designer label I still felt underdressed and severely poor.

We didn't make it very far inside the ballroom before Christian was stopped and greeted. He shook hands with the men present and kissed the cheeks of their female companions. My boss simply introduced me as Bonnie Bennett and not as his assistant. I was given polite compliments on my dress of choice and the color, but I wasn't asked any personal questions. Thank God.

After trading a few "jokes" Christian was relieved to go to another group of constituents. My fake smiling, laughing and feeling way out of my league continued for twenty minutes.

"Oh, Christian you're here. Finally," said an exasperated voice.

My boss and I turned at the sound of the approaching female. She immediately reminded me of the actress Ellen Barkin and like a dolt I nearly asked if she was her. She was older, I'd peg her to be in her late forties, early fifties or she could be younger than that. The woman was blond; her hair was cut in an extreme bob that highlighted the heart shape to her face. Thin lips, almond shaped hazel eyes marked by crow's feet on artificially tanned skin. She had a nice shape, wasn't overly thin or overweight for her height. She was dressed in an age appropriate figure hugging black cashmere dress that bared her arms and swept the floor. On her right wrist was a diamond cuff bracelet. Tear drop diamonds adorned her ears.

I stepped aside as Christian greeted the woman with double kisses on the cheek.

The woman clearly couldn't rip her eyes off Christian long enough to realize he hadn't been standing alone before she spotted him out of a crowd.

Christian pulled me forward by the elbow before his hand settled on the small of my back. His palm was warm, I must say.

"Elena…"

Are you fucking serious! Her name was Elena!

I tried so _hard _not to glare at her or Christian.

My boss continued as if there was nothing wrong in the world. "Elena Lincoln this is Bonnie Bennett."

"It's nice to meet you, Bonne. Welcome to my home."

_Elena_, I thought her name snidely, extended a slender hand out toward me. I shook it briefly and was ready to get away and move on to something else. Though this woman bore no physical resemblance to the Elena I did know, they shared a name I could no longer stand.

"I need to use the restroom. I'll be back," I walked off without asking for directions.

Plowing my way through the crowd, I found a bathroom, pretended to use it, and then readjusted my dress to make sure the girls weren't about to pop out and introduce themselves.

As I left, I naturally would run into Elena. Ugh!

I offered her the best smile my face could conjure.

"Did you find everything all right?" Elena had to ask so nicely and like an attentive hostess.

"Yes, you have a beautiful home."

"Thank you," her hazel eyes bored into me and I couldn't have felt more like a prized horse up for bid. "You're very beautiful…much different from the kind of women Christian usually goes for."

I blinked. "What?" Did Christian like woman who hit every single branch of the ugly tree on their way down? Or was this her backhanded way of saying I was cute for a black chick?

Elena laughed a bit but there wasn't a damn thing funny to me. "What I mean is…Christian has particular tastes. Tall. Willowy. The kind who look breakable," she gave me an unabashed perusal. "You definitely do not fit that mold."

"I'm sorry but are you complimenting me or insulting me?"

Elena looked shocked and then she flushed. "I mean…I'm complimenting you, dear. You're just not what I had been…you know, never mind. I obviously put my foot in my mouth," she smiled in a self-deprecating manner. "It's none of my business. My history with Christian is just that history. He's moved on."

"I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong impression. Mr. Grey is my boss."

Now it was Elena's turn to blink. I wasn't sure if I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but Christian didn't say I couldn't tell people that he was my employer.

"Oh, I assumed he might have been, but I wasn't sure. I'm just accustomed to seeing him attend my fundraiser with Cheryl, and with her not being here, I automatically assumed you were his date for the evening."

"I mean I am," I cleared my throat. "Technically speaking, but I'm working as well."

A mischievous glint came into Elena's eyes. One I didn't like. "Oh yes," she nearly purred. "One is literally always working where Christian Grey is involved. Just don't work too hard, dear. Enjoy the party."

Elena floated off to parts unknown and I wondered what the hell had I just stepped into. Was this a real "fundraiser" or was this something else?

To be continued.

**A/N: I'm sorry, guys there was zero Bamon in this chapter. I can't guarantee he'll be in every single update as I'm mostly telling this story from Bonnie's POV, but he'll definitely be an honorable mention. I know some are interested to hear Damon's POV, and I'm on the fence about that mostly because this is the first story I'm telling in first person and I kind of had my heart on sticking to that. Not to say I won't break off into other POV's to show what Damon's doing, but I don't think I'll ever dedicate an entire chapter to his POV for right now, but things may change. **

**And before you bite my head off, there is a character named Elena Lincoln in the 50 Shades series. I promise you won't see much of her. This may in fact be the only time she'll appear because one Elena is enough, I think we all agree, but I just wanted to bring in someone from Christian's past to make him slightly more human, lol. This night is far from over so you never know who else might pop up. Until next time, love you guys!**


	6. Toe Stomper

**A/N: I must say that I was pleasantly surprised that y'all liked the Bonnie/Christian interaction. I was expecting to get mixed reactions or no reaction at all. So thank you EVERYONE because now my head is bursting with ideas, some naughty, some nice. I don't know where things will head between those two as I'm trying to keep this Bamon, but I will say that anything is liable to happen, and anything goes. Here is the latest. It basically picks up where the last chapter ended. Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters (with the exception of Christian Grey/Elena Lincoln—they belong to EL James, and my OC's) are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

The dirty look. You know the kind of look a woman delivers to another woman she's selected out of a crowd to be her nemesis although you were just going about your business paying her no mind? With a single look she could dismantle you, write you off as cheap, a whore, insignificant, competition, lesser, ugly, dumb. Beginning from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet she could reduce you to feeling like a beggar on the street with missing teeth, bad skin, and bald spots.

That's how several women began to look at me once the secret was out that I was the woman draped on Mr. Grey's arm. Others stared at me curiously as if trying to see the interest.

I endured the looks, ignored them, even threw some shade where shade needed to be thrown, but ultimately I kept it moving until I was able to locate my boss in the crowd. He was once again surrounded by the who's-who of international business, commerce, and infrastructure. I observed Christian for a moment. One hand was tucked away in his pocket while the other waved around in the air as he spoke with his subjects. He held everyone captivated, especially the females who gazed at him like besotted fangirls.

Chortling, I helped myself to a glass of champagne, looked over the hor' dourves before selecting a pig in a blanket. It didn't seem to matter how much money a person had, pigs in a blanket was a staple at any social affair. I nibbled the little morsel taking care not to get any crumbs around my mouth. I smized—smiled with my eyes—at those who joined me at the table looking over the plentiful selections, pointing with fingers at the more creative delicacies before taking a chance on something they had never tasted or seen before.

Muted classical music played softly mixing with the murmuring of soft and loud voices. Periodically I'd hear someone laugh boisterously or there'd be a peel of laughter that sounded like a hyena giving birth.

My thoughts took a sharp trajectory back to the awkward conversation I had had with Elena Lincoln. I dissected her words like a forensic pathologist. I wasn't the type of woman Christian Grey usually went for, she said. Tall. Willowy. Easily breakable. That was his type. She thought I was his date, and I was unofficially, and then she made some cryptic comment about one is always working when Mr. Grey was around. Honestly, I didn't know what to make of her. Ms. Lincoln (I couldn't keep calling her by _that_ name) said she had history with Christian. Only one kind of history came to mind. Had that been her subtle way of marking her territory? By trying to say she had seen my boss naked on numerous occasions, and though the thrill was gone for him, she was still holding a candle for him, and if he said "Elena lets fuck" she'd simply say, "Sure, which hole?"

I started to do some calculations in my head. Ms. Lincoln was probably flirting with fifty if she wasn't already. Christian, whom I learned, was thirty-one. There was a possible twenty year age gap between them, so if the two of them ever did have a sexual or romantic relationship could it have taken place in his early twenties? Maybe it wasn't even that long ago?

At the end of the day it didn't really matter because nothing was going on between me and Christian Grey. He was my boss. I was his gopher whom he paid richly to tell people exactly how he liked his shoes to be shined. That's all that was between us.

A server wearing a crisp white jacket over black slacks popped up on the other side of the table, hands behind his back. He was clean shaven with deliciously full lips, olive skin, deep set ink black eyes. I'd pegged him to be Pacific Islander, but I could be wrong. He bowed a little, and I was almost tempted to return the gesture, but instead I smiled showing my top row of teeth.

"Is there anything in particular that suits your fancy, miss?"

He had an accent that didn't make it any easier to place his origins. I shook my head.

"Would you like to sample the crab pate', or the shrimp tartar? You don't have any allergies to shellfish, do you?"

"Well, let me put it like this, I haven't met a piece of seafood that survived once it met my fork and knife."

The server smiled which erased ten years off his age, whatever that might have been.

As I moved down the spread so did the server and it wasn't helping to ease my paranoia. Did he think I was going to stuff my clutch with crumpets or something? Or was the scent of my perfume just that alluring?

I ignored him until I reached the end of the table were there were several goblets lined up filled with a salmon colored liquid.

"What's this?" I asked and picked up a glass.

The server smirked. "An exotic blend of various fruits from around the world with some…additional proteins added for taste, ma'am."

That sounded suspect. I took a cursory sniff and lifted a brow. It smelled sweet but some things that smelled sweet had a bitter taste. Just as I made a conscious decision to take a sip, the glass was confiscated by a masculine hand and placed back on the table.

My incredulous eyes flew up and crashed into impenetrable steel-gray. Immediately the anger that rose up in me deflated and I lowered my arched eyebrows, and told my mouth to relax.

"You don't want to drink that," Christian advised and then he reached for the flute of champagne that had been in my other hand. I handed it over and watched as Mr. Grey placed his lips exactly where my lipstick stain was. He tipped his head back and swallowed the golden liquid in one gulp, and then the sexy bastard had the audacity to lick his lips once he was finished.

I might have stopped breathing for a second. Should he have done that?

Christian handed the empty glass over to a passing waiter, and then extended his arm. "The cocktail hour is winding down. We should take our seats."

I took my boss' outstretched arm, lightly gripping his bicep.

We began to weave our way through the crowd. It didn't take long for me to notice a very obvious trend.

The most distinguished, and by that I mean rich men had a dime piece attached to his arm. A statuesque woman half his age, half his weight, endowed in all the right places, and sometimes taller or the same height as her escort. That wasn't surprising. As I began to focus on the older ladies assembled, they too had beautiful, gorgeous men—men that looked like they fell from Mt. Olympus and landed here to live as mortals glued to their hips. It was an interestingly mixed crowd of overachievers with their showpieces, and if I didn't know I had a college degree and worked for a living I would begin to feel as if I were a kept woman adorned on a multi-millionaire's arm.

Just as we made it to our table, a man stepped into our path. My eyes went up and up and yet again my jaw nearly took a plunge to the floor.

Standing before me was the finest Asian man I had ever laid eyes on. He was taller than Christian, probably stood at six-three maybe six-four. The man was attired in a gunmetal gray suit, which he filled out _very _well, with a white button down shirt, skinny black tie, and this fall's Armani loafers. My eyes traveled back up to his face. Oval in shape, unblemished ivory skin, slanted onyx eyes were shielded by obscenely long lashes. He wore his ink-black hair cropped in a faux hawk. A trim beard hugged his face, and highlighted his severe cheekbones, and a mouth made for kissing.

Very politely I wanted to ask if I could sit on his face.

Mr. Grey extended a hand out to the man who eagerly shook it. Then my boss began to speak in what I could only assume was Chinese. I kept quiet because really what kind of input could I make. The man, still shaking Christian's hand responded in a rapid burst of whatever language they were speaking, and then his jet black eyes shifted over to me.

I felt like a doe that just heard a hunter pull an arrow out of his quiver.

"Bonnie Bennett I'd like you to meet Dr. Henry Gao. He's one of the leading hematologists, and he's also something of a medical genius in utilizing nanotechnology to recreate stem cells."

That meant absolutely nothing to me. Aside from the hematology part. I knew what that was about. Blood.

I shook Dr. Gao's hand. He had a nice grip, big hand, warm palm.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennett," Dr. Gao said and I fully expected clouds to form and lightning to flash because his voice reminded me of thunder.

"The pleasure is mine, Dr. Gao."

"Please, call me Henry," he let go of my hand and then began speaking with my boss in Chinese while I rocked on my heels; at least mentally that's what I was doing.

"So phase two of the project is running smoothly and on schedule?" Christian asked in English.

"There have been some minor delays and set backs with the test subjects—legalities," the doctor waved it off like it was unimportant. "But everything else has been progressing nicely. You'll receive a detailed report at the summit coming up in Copenhagen."

Summit? What summit? There wasn't one scheduled on Mr. Grey's calendar. When I was sure they weren't looking, I dug my BlackBerry out of my bag and typed myself a note. I wrote down Dr. Gao's name so I could Google him, then what he specialized in, and finally the summit in Copenhagen, test subjects, and legalities.

"If you all could take your seats, we're ready to begin," Elena Lincoln's voice rang throughout the room.

Christian and Henry shook hands again and then resumed speaking in Chinese. From what I could interpret they made plans to get together soon over drinks, golf, whatever it was men with power, money, and traffic stopping good looks did.

With my boss' hand planted firmly on the small of my back, Mr. Grey ushered us over to a round table that was occupied by an assortment of couples. Quietly we greeted those seated, and then my attention went to the front of the ballroom where the head table was. I wondered for a second if perhaps Christian should be sitting up there since he was being honored instead of sitting next to me.

Elena must have been sharing my same thought pattern because she craned her neck to and fro searching for Mr. Grey, and when she found him, even from the great distance separating us, I could tell her eyes had narrowed.

Instead of nudging Mr. Grey with my elbow like I would have done to anyone else, I lightly cleared my throat.

His eyes were on me in an instant.

"Shouldn't you be sitting at the head table since you're being honored tonight, sir?" I asked softly.

Christian leaned forward, eating away the space separating us. Instinctively I wanted to lean away, but I remained rooted to my spot.

"Under different circumstances I would take my place with the other honorees, but tonight I'm in the mood to do something different."

Okay, I guess I could decipher that anyway I wanted to especially under my boss' direct stare.

I licked my lips a little and saw Christian's eyes drop to take it in before they lifted to meet my gaze once more.

"What was in that drink, Mr. Grey?" I had to change the subject.

"Christian," he quickly corrected.

"Christian," I repeated.

Mr. Grey sat back against the chair, right arm resting on the table. "A powerful mix of aphrodisiacs."

"A- Aphrodisiacs?" I replied dubiously.

Christian nodded once. "If you haven't noticed there are several men in attendance who are older, wiser," he added a beguiling nearly sinister smile. "Unfortunately things might not operate as they once did. Low testosterone leads to erectile dysfunction," My. Grey retorted bluntly. "I don't have such a problem."

Gulp, and like a pervert my eyes lowered to his crotch where I saw the definite print of his longbow. Shiver me timbers!

Quickly I glanced away and Mr. Grey half laughed half groaned. When I chanced looking at him, his eyes were stuck on me like a peg board, assessing, taking my measure with those stupid pupils enlarging and shrinking.

I picked up the water glass and took several large gulps. "Why would that kind of drink be necessary? This is a fundraiser, right?" Not an orgy? I couldn't ask that and not embarrass myself to death.

Mr. Grey nodded that tousled copper head of his again.

"I feel like I'm missing something very obvious, Mr.—Christian."

"It's a silent auction, Bonnie," Mr. Grey filled in the blank. "What or more appropriately _who _is up for bid are twenty-five of Elena's closest _male _friends. Some men need a little boost on the confidence end." Pause. "I'm on the list of being bid on."

Had not been expecting that and I'm sure my face registered my surprise. Hopefully Christian wasn't expecting me to bid on him. That spelled all kinds of trouble and all kinds of wrong. I already had more than one dirty thought about him, and Dr. Gao, and the small inferno that had been burning between my thighs earlier was put on pause not fully extinguished.

"Chicken or beef?" Christian pondered suddenly.

I blinked, confused until I realized he had been asking me what I wanted off the menu. I answered without looking at what came with each entrée. "Beef. I haven't had red meat in a while."

Christian's mouth automatically opened to respond but he hesitated, his silver orbs fixed on the placard in front of him, but ever so slowly that left eyeball traveled until it looked at me askance.

"What do you have a burning desire for dessert, Bonnie?"

Burning desire, he didn't want to go there with me, and I needed to put a massive stop to this innuendo game we had been playing. I wasn't foolish to think everything had been one-sided all evening. Several times I caught my boss red-handed checking me out, and then sometimes he didn't even try to hide it. Instead of allowing this to continue I should have stormed out and demanded he return me to my empty apartment. Encouraging his behavior would reflect poorly on me, not him because he's male, but because I'm female I should know better. That's what society would say.

And the best of society was right under this roof getting drunk on natural Viagra.

"I don't think I have a taste for dessert tonight, Christian."

A corner of his mouth turned down in disappointment. "Pity. The pineapple soufflé is divine."

"Is that a personal favorite of yours?"

"I don't have much of a sweet tooth, but I do like to sample, and I'll try anything once. If I like something, I tend to overindulge. _A lot._ Restraint…not my thing. I also have a problem with waste so I devour everything on my plate until there's nothing left."

Yeah, I pretty much drained the rest of my water while Christian smirked at my plight. I never spent an excessive amount of time trying to figure out the kind of man Christian Grey was. He was an enigma, a puzzle with interchangeable parts that sometimes turned into chameleons, blended in and made it impossible to make a cohesive picture. He was intelligent, impatient, generous, self-centered, but I didn't know what his weaknesses were. Everyone had them, had some vice they couldn't shake that no amount of therapy or going cold turkey could outrun.

I simply just didn't know how to categorize him. He was my employer but the way he was speaking and behaving with me tonight made those employer/employee boundaries null and void. I didn't think Christian was doing it so I could be comfortable in his presence. He hadn't ignored me like he did at work when the important people showed up for meetings, and he delegated everything to The Blondes leaving me to play Bejeweled Blitz on my Mac. Mr. Grey had been attentive, not territorial, and sometimes I did get the distinct impression he was showing me off, but other than being proud he worked with a beautiful woman, I could discern nothing else.

The lights dimmed and then a projection screen lowered from the ceiling. The evening was beginning with a video montage of how the money raised to support The H2O Project was utilized. Intermittedly people clapped when they saw a familiar face float across the screen. The music that had been dubbed to play along with the video was "Earth Song" by musical icon Michael Jackson.

Mr. Grey appeared larger-than-life on screen wearing a dirty plain white T-shirt that clung to his torso, drenched in sweat over blue jeans while he carried a bag that might have been fertilizer over a brawny shoulder. Seeing him take an actual hands-on approach to bettering the world humanized him even more. He wasn't just another high roller who wrote checks to placate the IRS, or only lent a hand after a natural disaster struck hoping to improve his public image. Mr. Grey _was _a humanitarian.

The claps, cheers, and whistles were especially loud for him, and because his back was to me I couldn't see his face. It was probably nothing but stone anyways. Christian wasn't the type to get embarrassed easily if at all.

He blatantly told me his dick wasn't dysfunctional. Who does that? Someone proud and unashamed, obviously.

There were more snapshots of my boss talking with the locals in whatever country he was in. It might have been the Congo or Sudan or Sierra Leone. I wasn't sure. And then the money shot, of my boss resting on his haunches at the completion of another successfully built well where he and three small boys enjoyed their first glass of clean, purified water. He was smiling, full blown, yes-I-see-my-dentist-every-six months smiling.

I sighed. I wasn't the only one.

The music stopped, the screen faded to black, the house lights came on, and then people were standing and clapping. I joined them.

Elena stood behind the podium, spoke into the microphone and read over the laundry list of things Mr. Grey had done in several countries during the course of the year, and then she called him to the stage.

Christian briefly looked at me and I doubled my applause as he made his way to the head table. He bounded up the platform, kissed Elena, accepted his plaque, shook hands, smiled, and then he was back at the table. No speech.

Tonight was about him, but he didn't want it to be about him. I guess I could add modesty to the list.

* * *

Dinner was delicious; conversations flowed like the Cristal that filled my glass at least three times throughout the course of the evening. Some couples were dancing, but I declined offers left from right. Christian was up mingling once again, but had returned because now it was time for the actual "fundraiser" part of the night.

"Too perfect," I murmured, stuffed belly and practically purring like a kitten.

Christian regarded me speculatively as he finished up his tiramisu. "What's too perfect?"

"You," I answered unabashedly.

My response made him smile almost demurely. "I'm far from perfect, Miss Bennett."

"Bonnie," I corrected for the first time.

A definite shift happened.

Gray eyes turned nearly feline as they latched on to my face and smoldered. "Bonnie," Mr. Grey amended. "You think I'm the good guy, the superhero? What if I am the bad guy?"

I shrugged. Being around bad guys didn't scare me off considering what I could do to one. "Do you want to blow up a hospital?"

Christian looked befuddled. "No."

"Assassinate a public figure?"

"Haven't had the urge lately," he deadpanned.

My lips twitched but I maintained my line of questioning. "Do you want to become a human trafficker?"

"No."

"Then I'd say you're very bad at being bad, Christian. Bad guys don't waste their time or money building wells in deprived countries trying to extend the lives of small children with distended bellies. They don't smile at children who are orphans, or are sadly on their way to being orphans because of the wholesale genocide that happens around them non-stop. You're not bad, Christian."

Mr. Grey dropped his fork and then rested his hand on the back of my chair. I felt his breath as he began speaking. "I'm not good either, Bonnie. My business world is my professional suit of armor, but I don't wear this suit all the time. When I take it off…"

"You become someone else," I finished for him. "Then that's something we share in common, Mr. Grey."

"Christian," he lightly growled.

"I like who I am more," I went on to say ignoring his correction, "I become my real self when I take my professional clothes _off_."

A flush appeared, overtaking Mr. Grey's cheeks and the tips of his ears. His nostrils flared and I felt through the fabric of the chair that he was squeezing it for dear life, but other than those cues nothing about him seemed remiss, shaken, thrown off its equilibrium.

"You're not what I thought you were," Christian whispered.

"What did you think I was?" An elf, I mentally snorted.

He turned away from me and sighed heavily. "Uncomplicated."

Elena Lincoln was back up at the podium killing my ears with her voice. "Now we've arrived at the fun part of the evening. The results of the silent auction."

The crowd clapped and energy started to renew itself.

Ms. Lincoln resumed speaking once the applause died down and filled in those who were attending for the first time or simply reminding those who had been to one of her events, the parameters of the silent auction. Each of the "Johns" had to write out a detailed description on what a date with them would entail, but they weren't allowed to give their name. It was a way to avoid favoritism as I'm sure everyone who had placed a bid would have gone after my boss.

To speed things along, Elena only read out the highest bids which started at fifty-thousand on up.

I clapped politely when a geriatric retired politician stood up to be claimed by a disappointed looking thirtysomething woman who was clearly out of sixty thousand dollars, but she would be traveling to Mexico via yacht so that had to make up for something. Right?

The second to highest bid came from a severe looking fembot who wrote a check for a hundred and eighty thousand dollars to be whisked to the Swiss Alps by a bioengineer. The guy, I didn't want to label him a nerd but his glasses could be misconstrued for a telescope, smacked his chops together the minute he saw who would be his owner for forty-eight hours.

It would appear only two people were winning tonight: the people the money was being raised for, and the less fortunate gentlemen who had to sell themselves in order to get a date.

I fidgeted a little in my seat when Ms. Lincoln began to read out the highest bid in the history of her fundraiser and how the luck lady would be entertained.

"…a two-night private stay in the United Arab Emirates city of Dubai…"

That's all Ms. Lincoln had to say was Dubai. Who _didn't _want to go to Dubai, be treated like royalty, be chauffeured around in a Maybach, gorge oneself on delicious food, shop at the best of the best boutiques and jewelry stores, and go on camel rides along sandy beaches with perfect crystal blue water? Who. Did. Not. Want. That? I nearly pouted in my seat because I couldn't go.

"For a staggering $1.2 million dollars that privilege goes to my dear friend Eshe Fukayna."

Heads swiveled and turned to where Ms. Lincoln was pointing. My eyes landed on an irritatingly beautiful woman with deep russet skin who appeared to be more deity than woman in her Zuhair Murad gown that fit her dangerously curvaceous body like a glove.

"Christian Grey come meet your date."

My eyes enlarged as my boss rose from the table and then buttoned his jacket as people stood up, yet again to cheer that naturally the highest bid would land on his perfectly disheveled head.

Eshe meet Christian half way where she was given kisses on the cheek to which she reciprocated, and then took possession of his arm. She wasn't jumping up and down and acting like she won the lottery. Everything about her was regale and composed but those doe brown eyes of hers were practically spitting fireworks. She had spent her money _extremely _well is what her face read.

I was happy for my boss, happy for those the money raised would assist, but I wasn't so happy for myself at the moment. Eshe could make Miss Universe look like Smeagol from _The Lord of the Rings_.

For me the night was dragging and my bed was calling. And speaking of calling I checked my cell and saw that Svetlana had called me and left a voice mail message. It probably had something to do with Fourth of July since I had invited her to tag along and hang out with me and Rebekah and a few others.

Not so surprisingly the ex sent me a text message and when I opened it up I saw penis. The jerk. Of course not to be completely chauvinistic, he sent me a picture of his chest and said that his heart and his pecker missed me. Aww, how sweet. Gag me.

"Are you ready to leave or would you like to stay a while longer?"

Christian startled me and I dropped my phone. He bent to pick it up, but I hadn't closed out of my text inbox, and so I snatched it before he could reach it. My face was aflame.

"If you want to stay you can. Taylor, with your permission of course, Sir, can see me home."

"Nonsense. Elena has monopolized enough of my time for the night. Let's go."

Hearing that transported me back to the past. I had to shake it off. I stood up from the chair. "What about your date? I imagine Ms. Fukayna would be eager to get started considering how much she bid."

"That's been settled. I can't exactly go on holiday right now. I have several projects I'm overseeing that need my attention. She's a patient woman and you know what they say about patience, good things happen to those who wait," he eyed me—_hard_.

"Right, sir," I blanched. We began walking towards the front of the property. "Just to be clear you will be in the office next week as your schedule dictates?"

Christian nodded curtly. "Yes. I don't want to see you until next Tuesday. I mean that with all seriousness and sincerity, Bonnie. Take an additional day of vacation."

"You don't have to twist my arm."

"Good." Christian looked like he was itching to say more but censored himself. He called Taylor and told him to bring the car around.

"Oh, your plaque," I remembered at the last second.

"I'll have Elena FedEx it to me," he said uncaringly.

The humidity was still screaming like a banshee at close to midnight and already I missed the air conditioned coolness of The Lincoln estate. The Bentley was waiting and I easily slid inside.

The ride back to my humble abode was more subdued. The silence was punctuated with the sounds of Bjork. Wouldn't take Christian Grey as a fan of Bjork, but to each its own.

I waited for Taylor to bound out of the car to open the door the second we arrived at my place. I turned to face Mr. Grey, his face once again a perfectly impenetrable mask. I wanted to say I wanted to know him, wanted to know if he really saw himself as a bad guy. I'm sure he had questionable habits, and nefarious appetites that might shock, but from where I was standing he seemed harmless enough. Even a yellow jacket from time to time can be as docile has a house cat until they felt threatened, I reminded myself.

"I had fun tonight, Mr. Grey. I wish…I wish I could attend more events, get to know more people in the industry. Don't get me wrong, I like what I do, but I wouldn't mind more challenging assignments. I think my proven track record and reliability speaks for itself."

"You're petitioning me for more work?" his question sounded more like a reproach.

"In a way," I muttered awkwardly. "Only if you think I'm capable of more responsibility, sir. It's your call."

Christian inclined his head reminding me of a modern day Mr. Darcy. "I'll see what I can do. Thank you for accompanying me, Miss Bennett."

"Bonnie."

His lips tugged but he fought against smiling. He glared at me slightly for challenging his alpha male status before his features evened out. "Bonnie," he relented at last.

The door opened and I was pulled not hauled from the car like an overzealous fan. "Good night, Taylor."

"Good night, Miss Bennett."

I sashayed, only a little, to the front door, looked over my shoulder but couldn't make out my boss through the heavily tinted window, but I didn't need to see him to know that his eyes were watching me.

* * *

I was the captain of the ship. Quite literally. I was steering Marcel's very expensive, very fast speed boat as fifteen rowdy supernaturals with some humans thrown into the mix screamed and held up beer bottles as I throttled the engine. At the last second it was decided that we wouldn't be heading to Boone Island as it appeared everyone and their mother decided to crowd the archipelago, and instead we were going to a neighboring island called Sibley Isle which was five miles west of Boone.

This hadn't been the original plan. Me and Rebekah celebrating the Fourth with Marcel and his harem. Marcel had called me up out of the blue, inquired of my plans, and when I told them what they were he vetoed them like he was the president, and _told _me I was hanging out with him.

After I stopped mentally fangirling, I calmly told him I had to confer with my bestie because the last thing I wanted to was to incur Rebekah's wrath the second she found out who was behind changing our plans. I spent a good forty-five minutes arguing with her back and forth until finally she snapped that _I _was picking her up, that _I_ was buying all her liquor, that _I_ was doing everything _she _wanted to do regardless if I were in the mood or not. I agreed and then, I was off to escort the queen to the shipping dock where we piled our luggage for lack of a better word on to Marcel's boat.

His naked torso was the first thing I greeted before smiling and hugging him, but not too tight. Like always Rebekah's greeting was cool and bordered on hostile, but Marcel took it and her in stride having come to expect nothing less from the blond bombshell.

Sibley, by boat, was a thirty-five minute ride and two minutes in, Marcel asked me if I wanted to drive. I questioned his sanity, but he brushed off my concerns and said, "What are you going to crash into a dolphin?"

Hardy-har-har.

"You're a natural," Marcel complimented as he stood and kept watch to make sure I didn't do something idiotic and seriously wreck his boat. "But I would expect nothing less from Cinderella."

"Thanks," I said keeping my eyes ahead. Ocean water sprayed my face and ruined my do, but it was okay because I was on vacation and really didn't have anyone to impress.

I couldn't help the fact that my thoughts never strayed far from Christian Grey. He was in Vancouver by now, and though he didn't appear to be the type to man a grill, something told me he enjoyed traditional holidays.

"What have you been doing with yourself these days?" Marcel questioned. "You haven't been to the club in a minute."

I grinned. "Are you keeping tabs on me?"

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," he replied ambiguously. "I've heard you're a busy woman."

"Where'd you hear that from?"

"Around."

"Could you be more specific?" I didn't like it when people beat around the bush. Just spit it out. We're all adults to some degree.

"If you take a guess you'd probably get it right. I just know…I don't want to step on any toes."

I looked at Marcel then. "If there are toes present then I advise you to step on them, crush them if you have to."

He laughed, liking the sound of that. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I think we're coming up to the island, Marcel."

"Let me squeeze on by," the tall, dark, and handsome vampire retook control of the wheel. I slid away and kept watch as Marcel handled the boat like he was driving a car.

Easily we docked then disembarked bringing our load with us. Folding chairs were set up near the water's edge, coolers were opened, retractable grills were fired up, and jet skies were un-tethered. I made myself comfortable under the shade of an umbrella.

"Get up," Rebekah pulled me off my beach towel. "We're going out."

I hopped on the back of her jet ski where she played chicken with one of _Club Lamia's_ famed bouncers. The dude crashed, we didn't, and laughed maniacally.

I certainly worked up an appetite squeezing Rebekah until my arms and inner thighs felt sore. She pulled up the jet ski to allow someone else a turn, and then we helped ourselves to sugary soda, hamburgers and hotdogs grilled to burnt perfection.

"Looks like your friend Svetlana is making a name for herself," Rebekah pointed out before taking a massive bite of her hamburger.

I looked behind me and caught sight of Svetlana putting on some kind of strip show. She wasn't coming out of her bathing suit, but she was making a grand show of sliding off the sarong covering her up. Svetlana was dramatic, Russian, insanely beautiful, and hailed from a wealthy family. She worked primarily as a hobby, jumped from relationship to relationship because her mind was fickle and she loved to have fun. The second things began to turn serious after spending a night in "Mother Russia", and her paramour wanted more Svetlana packed her bags, grabbed her passport, and got ghost. She left many a broken-hearted souls behind. But she was loveable and hilarious and reminded me of Caroline in some respects.

"She's all right. Now, when she tries to show exactly how limber she is, that's when I'll start to worry," I trailed off as I noticed another speed boat headed towards the dock. "Who's that?"

Rebekah took off her Jackie-O shades and squinted. "Bullocks."

"What?"

"You'll see."

Ugh!

"Are you sure he didn't implant a tracking device somewhere on you, Bonnie?"

I wouldn't be surprised if Damon did.

My ex was pulling up to the island in a black speed boat, but he had someone with him. I gasped and was up and on my feet racing to the dock before I could tell myself to stop.

"Stefan!"

The vampire in question had just tied off the boat but spun around when he heard me screaming his name. I launched myself and he caught me, hugged me, and swung me like a rag doll before putting me on my feet. I couldn't believe he was here and I couldn't believe I was this happy to see him.

"What are you doing here?!" I looked him over expecting him to disintegrate or vaporize.

Stefan was smiling a bit shyly because he hated being put on the spot. "I came to surprise my brother and now I guess I'm surprising you."

At the mention of Damon, I turned to regard him. He was taking his sweet time climbing on to the dock.

"No hug for me?" he leered standing before me shirtless in a pair of black board shorts that hung loose on his lean hips. For a second I followed his happy trail of dark hair before it disappeared under the waistband of his shorts.

I sighed heavily. "Hi, Damon," and smiled perfunctorily.

He nodded in acceptance of the fact that he would be getting no love, not from this one.

Stefan's hand on my shoulder drew my attention back to him. I still couldn't believe he was here and soon dozens, hundreds of memories flew to the forefront of my mind and I saw Stefan standing behind his brother in his tux as I walked down the aisle. Then I saw him bleeding and crying on the ground after being ambushed, and finally the memories emptied out until the only thing left was the crestfallen expression on his face as I walked out of the courtroom once a judge legally cut my familial ties with him.

I had hurt Stefan as much as I hurt Damon when I filed for a divorce, and honestly I wasn't thinking about how it would affect him because I was only concerned with getting out. I never confided in Stefan about what was going on because I knew if I did he would only talk me into staying. Stefan had been able to convince me to do anything, which made him dangerous, and he sometimes used that against me. To be free, I knew I had to get away from him also.

But Damon was determined to be a black hole, a strong gravitational force that used everything it had to pull me back in. Including his brother.

"It's good to see you, Bonnie," Stefan said in earnest.

"It's good to see you, too. I'm shocked to see you outside of Mystic Falls."

"Stefan…are you going to help me unload? Half this crap is your hair care products," Damon griped interrupting us as usual. The dark-haired Salvatore liked the fact I had been close to his brother, but at the same time he didn't like it because he felt it hindered on our time.

Exasperatedly, Stefan rolled his eyes and went to go assist the diva.

I moved out of the way and watched as they loaded their arms with bags and we all headed down the pier to join the rest of the group.

Marcel eyed them suspiciously but tipped up a bottle in greeting.

Damon unceremoniously dropped his belongings and right before I knew he was about to operate in vampire speed, I caught him by the wrist and shook my head in warning that there were humans present. He peered at me a while before that naughty glint crept into his eyes as he took in my black and white bikini.

"Cut that out," I admonished and let him go.

He winked and proceeded at human speed setting up camp.

"Hey, Stefan let me introduce you to everyone."

"Oh, I met everyone last night," my former brother-in-law clued me in.

I blinked. Naturally Damon would show Stefan the sights since he abhorred idleness and didn't like sitting around twiddling his thumbs.

"Rebekah is here if you want to say hi," I told him.

"Yeah," Stefan wiggled his thick fingers at her. "She's scowling at me," he smiled.

"No, that's her smile," I refuted. "Take a walk with me down the beach?"

He nodded and then clapped Damon none-too-gently on the arm. His well-defined arm. "You have everything covered, right? I'll be back."

"I fail to see how I'm being blown off when you showed your inconvenient ass on my doorstep asking me to take you in and feed you."

"That's what I thought. You have everything covered," Stefan then slung an arm over my shoulder and the two of us headed down the beach. The whole while Damon was flaying the both of us alive with the solar flares erupting from his orbs.

My feet sank into the wet sand before it was covered with frothy bubbles. Stefan and I were silent for a minute and then started speaking simultaneously.

"After you," Stefan conceded.

I wrung my hands together. My heart began beating triple time. "I need to apologize, Stefan. We haven't talked or seen each other in a year and we were really close. I was wrong. I shouldn't have cut you out of my life simply because I didn't want to be with Damon anymore."

"Bonnie, I understand why you did it, and yeah it hurt me, but I understood. I know better than anyone how domineering, overbearing, and pig-headed my brother can be, and I knew it would only be so much of that you would take before exploding. I just wish you would have talked to me and maybe I could have talked to Damon…"

I grabbed Stefan by the arm, halting his forward progress. Everything about him was the same. From his classically handsome looks, to the way he tried to shoulder everyone's responsibility on his shoulders.

"It wasn't your job to fix our relationship." I pushed my hair behind my ear. "That's why I didn't say anything because I knew you'd be you, and I didn't want you to be in the middle of it, or have to choose sides. But I'm glad you understand."

Stefan nodded. "You know I view you as my sister, Bonnie. That's never going to change. I just wished…you would have viewed me as _your _brother."

I dipped my head. Shame sat on my shoulders and taunted me in my ear that said serves you right, the guilt you're feeling right now. Stefan wasn't just Damon Salvatore's younger brother who struggled with bloodlust, and had a dark ripper side that sometimes poked its crazy head out. He had been my brother, too. Growing up as an only child was tough, but it was what I had grown used to. So having a brother was an adjustment for me, and I could admit that I kept Stefan at arm's length pertaining to certain things. I didn't _always _look at him as a brother, and if I had, there wouldn't have been anyway I could have turned my back on him the way I did.

"I'm sorry," I murmured.

Stefan pulled me into another hug. "It's okay. I forgive you." Pause. "Damon tells me you're working."

"What else has Damon told you?" I deadpanned.

"He still says you're the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Trying to butter me up on his behalf…I see something's haven't changed."

"The ship has sailed?"

"The ship has crashed, burned, sank, and is currently being raided by salvagers."

That earned a dark chuckle from my ex bro-in-law. "You seem happy."

"I am," I admitted easily. "So do you. New girl?"

A bashful expression overtook Stefan's face. He started rubbing his neck. It was something he did whenever he was feeling nervous or shy. I was practically beaming.

"Stefan Eugene Salvatore!"

"Could you say that any louder? I don't think the vampires in Papua New Guinea heard you," he groused.

I punched Stefan on the arm which only ended up hurting me in the process. "Who is it?"

"I'm keeping things under wraps for now."

"You know I am psychic and all it will take is one little touch to your temporal lobe…" I started reaching for it.

Stefan was quick to duck my hand and held up a finger in warning. "If you don't want to be dunked I suggest you keep away from the hair."

I laughed. It was a bit startling how easily we fell back into our old routine our old pattern of teasing one another, sharing laughs as if I hadn't scissor cut myself out of his life, moved across the US, and hadn't spoken to him in over a year.

I wrapped my arm around his waist. "I missed you, Stefan."

He kissed my forehead. "I missed you too, little sis."

* * *

By the time we returned, Rebekah was playing cards, Marcel was drinking, laughing, and manning a grill, and Svetlana was practically sitting in Damon's lap.

I didn't bother to look at Stefan knowing he was trying to gauge my reaction to seeing a friend of mine attempting to get in my ex-husband's pants. A side-effect of being with an immortal was that they drew attention from the fairer sex like moths to a flame. I've had to endure my share of women gawking at Damon, openly making passes at him even while I held his hand. There were times where I found napkins, pieces of paper with numbers scrawled on them in the pockets of his leather jacket whenever he left it out in public. Damon astonishingly had been completely monogamous. He never cheated on me. In fact, women became invisible to him unless he was hungry.

There was only a few times where I questioned why he decided to be with me when he could have been with someone else i.e. another vampire, someone older with more life experience. His answer had been the same: He loved me and he didn't want anyone else.

I used to pull on that when I would start to feel insecure, and in a way I was pulling on that now even though Damon was well within his rights to move on and be with someone else. It's what I practically shoved in his face that he should do.

"I'm going for a dip," I attempted to throw a smile at Stefan who wasn't buying my cool façade.

I waded out to the water, disappeared underneath the turquoise waves, and didn't resurface until I swam some distance away.

Where I ended up I couldn't be seen which was fine. I needed a moment alone. Tilting my head up to catch the sun, I rotated my head on my shoulders, and allowed the steady breeze to cool my skin.

A cool hand brushed my wet hair off my shoulder. Knuckles ghosted along my back before fingers traced my sides. My breathing changed and I shivered.

"What do you want, Damon?"

He rested his chin on my shoulder. "Aren't you tired of asking that rhetorical question?"

"Aren't you tired of being rejected?" I rebutted.

"Rejection is the greatest aphrodisiac."

"Okay, Madonna," I rolled my eyes.

"I like that song. 'Forbidden Love' it suits us." Pause. "Watch the fireworks with me, _portafortuna_. Share my beach towel. Hold my hand."

"Get lost you girl!" It was difficult trying not to laugh.

Damon chuckled and kissed my cheek. "Come on, _Cinderella_, I'll race you back."

I glared at my ex. He called me Cinderella and only one person called me that.

Now it became clear why Marcel didn't want to "step on any toes". Damon. Something's really _didn't _change.

Chapter end.

**A/N: Yes, it would appear that the reunion between Stefonnie happened easily and fluidly, but that's not to say everything is kosher. And you will see Dr. Henry Gao in future chapters and if you need a point of reference for who I had in mind to portray him, Google Godfrey Gao. Wowzers! I hoped you guys enjoyed this. Let me know what you think. I'll be back with another update as soon as possible, and I would love to update my other stories as I know some are waiting, but this story has me by my figurative balls, lol. But I'll try to lessen the pressure. Until next time love you!**


	7. There's No Place Like Home

**A/N: Hi ya'll. So it took me a little longer than usual to get this out. There were a lot of things I wanted to include, but figured to just stick with the basics. They'll be plenty of time for Bonnie to juggle all the guys that have suddenly popped into her life. Here is the latest. Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Walking away was easy. Staying away was hard.

I was on my way to Mystic Falls. Seeing Stefan had made me nostalgic and I wanted to return to the place of my birth. This was purely a spur of the moment thing. I jumped out of bed in the middle of the night, rapidly searching online for the cheapest airfare and the earliest flight to Virginia that could be found right after the Fourth. Thankfully I was able to use my corporate traveling points to help shave a few hundred bucks off my flight. For one dizzying moment I thought I could get away with asking Taylor to ready _Charlie Tango_, my boss' helicopter, but I wasn't exactly suicidal.

I had called Caroline en route to the airport to let her know I was coming. At first I went back and forth on whether it would be a good idea to surprise her or not, and decided the least I could do was give her a heads up. I didn't like pop-up surprise visits like the next person, but still it hadn't been the easiest phone call to make. Not to mention the three-hour time difference between us I was pressing my luck.

Not so surprisingly Caroline answered as cheerily as I expected her to answer. It was jarring yet also comforting to hear not a pinch of hostility in her voice after she realized she was talking to me. My words got lodged on the roof of my mouth, and had a difficult time coming up from my diaphragm, but I managed and sounded at least somewhat human.

"Bonnie, I still can't believe I'm talking to you. Mind you I'm still totally going to kick your ass the minute I see you, but I'm psyched you're coming. I have so much to do!"

"Please, no marching band," I said.

"At least let me get the drum line."

I laughed and so did she. I told Caroline not to go out of her way to pick me up from the airport since the closest one was in Richmond. I had a rental on standby and would make the two-hour drive to Mystic Falls where I'd remain until Sunday. It was now Tuesday.

Before I left I called Damon who graciously put me on the line to speak with Stefan. I didn't want him to think I was bailing simply because he was in town. I simply wanted to maximize my vacation time to its full benefit, and with all the testosterone I had been surrounding myself with, I needed a strong dose of estrogen. I reframed from saying as much to Bex who I knew would be deeply offended by my way of thinking. We were the Spice Girls—girl power forever, who needs a man when there are dildos and vibrators and chocolate. That was our motto.

I had inquired of my former bro-in-law how long he would be in town, and Stefan assured me he would be sticking around until he got tired of hearing Damon's complaints. Stefan had a high tolerance of dealing with Damon's bullshit so he would be around for a few weeks at the most.

When Damon plucked the phone out of Stefan's possession he tried to finagle his way on my trip. Of course the bastard had to play dirty by reminding me our fingers engaged in a little hand porn as we laid out side-by-side on blankets while watching the fireworks. As if I needed that reminder.

Oh, Damon had been so smooth. Popping up like a genie, laying his blanket out beside mine, casually stretching out, and then becoming so still like a freaking statue I almost forgot he was there. At first I had my hands resting on my belly, and somehow they ended up resting at my sides.

Ever have that feeling that something or someone was sneaking up on you even when you knew you were completely alone? That's how I felt when I sensed Damon's cold digits crawling across the cotton towel headed for my stationary hand. With a single brush of his thumb along my knuckles, I sighed deeply and continued to ignore him. Then Damon took it up a notch and slid his fingers between mine.

He didn't turn his head in my direction to look at me but I felt his impenetrable stare all the same. Peripheral vision was a hell of a thing. And he wasn't satisfied with _just _holding my hand. Nope. The ex had to squeeze my fingers and rub my skin with his thumb. We were being so naughty. I wouldn't say hand holding and watching fireworks on the Fourth was a tradition or our thing, but it was something about holidays that made me feel especially close to Damon. Probably had something to do with the fact he had become my family, my main system of support, and I leaned on him.

Once the fireworks ended in a dazzling display that nearly roasted my retinas everyone quickly gathered up their things ready to hit the club scene. I was feeling kind of pooped and wanted to return to my bungalow and soak in the tub. Rebekah threatened to put me in a home, and told me to hocus pocus some energy because she was in the mood to kick up her heels and lose her panties in the process.

"I can take you home if you don't want to paint the town red," leered my ex-husband.

Paranoia made me feel like all eyes were on us and I looked around. Marcel was busy breaking down grills, but I could tell he was listening in, and the slight glare that Svetlana sent me let me know she was displeased with the lack of attention Damon gave to her pride and joy—her ass and titties. God bless her, she didn't know Damon was my ex and I didn't go around town spreading that news like a wild fire. Besides, I never really had to since Damon liked to make it known that there was unfinished business between us. His words not mine.

He was such a cock blocker, but such was the life I signed up for when I agreed to marry his tush.

"That's okay," I quickly refused. "I'm sure you have plans already and I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother. You know that. Plus I want to take you for a ride on my boat," he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Nice euphemism."

"Glad to know where your mind is, Bennett. I really was talking about my boat. Still it pleases me you think I'm so well endowed."

My eyes rolled but I declined riding with Damon even as tempted as I was because his boat looked fast and dangerous things that were synonymous with the eldest Salvatore. I'm sure his boat could slice through the dark ocean water like a scalpel through flesh.

"I rode with Marcel and it would be rude to bail on him." I had to literally smack my hand over my mouth before the words "maybe next time" came tumbling out.

Damon didn't say anything but his eyes certainly showed their displeasure with my choice. "Well, be safe," he said and I was astonished he didn't argue with me or try to force his will.

What had this pod person done with my husband? I meant _ex_-husband. Shoot, seriously needed to take some ginkgo biloba because my memory was flirting with being geriatric.

Damon kissed my cheek in farewell and gathered up his stuff and began the trek to the dock. Stefan had offered to help me carry my belongings.

"What's wrong with your brother?" I found myself asking against my better judgment.

"He _is _different," Stefan remarked as if life had been discovered on another planet. Considering the vampire we were discussing it came pretty freaking close. "I suppose I have you to thank for his development. He's on his way to middle school; his elementary days are over."

I laughed. Hugging Stefan one final time we made promises to remain in touch and along with plans to meet up for lunch or dinner before he headed back to Virginia.

All of that had happened close to twenty-four hours ago. Now my plane was about to touch down and I was mentally preparing myself to deal with another ghost from my past.

Caroline Forbes had been in my life almost since birth it seemed. We became fast friends in the first grade, spent literally every single weekend together (in between relationships), and cheered on the same squad from middle to high school. I quit half way through our junior year because I was dealing with a ton of responsibility that putting on a little uniform and shaking what my mama gave me seemed superficial and shallow. It wasn't who I was anymore. I was being groomed for greatness and cheering—hell school, no longer held the same merit.

But Caroline was the kind of friend who baked or cooked something when you were sick, pushed you to try new things, experience life to its fullest. She became even more adamant when she was turned against her will, but like good ole Caroline, she rolled with the punches, could take whatever curveball life decided to throw at her, and passed every single test with flying colors and accolades.

The only fathomable excuse I could come up with for pushing her out of my life was…quite frankly I didn't have one. My history with Caroline was rich and deep. We had been so far imbedded in one another's lives that if she got hurt I physically felt her pain and vise versa. Maybe I let her go so that we could grow up and experience things on a solo basis since so much of our relationship was intertwined. At one point I didn't even feel like we were separate people living separate lives. Maybe in leaving Mystic Falls I hoped Caroline would do the same and see the world. Live on her own for once. It was something she always said she wanted.

Once I landed and found the rental car place at the airport, got my car with little to no hassle or screw-ups with the paperwork, dumped my rolling suitcase and carry-on in the trunk, I was well on my way.

In the south there was a distinct smell to the air: freshly cut grass, honeysuckle, and smoke from barbeques. The air itself was almost a food group and I inhaled as much of it as I could without choking on the exhaust fumes from the eighteen wheeler slow dragging in front of me. I sang aloud to all my favorite songs.

It was almost seven o'clock by the time I parked the Ford Focus outside of Caroline's mom's house. My sweet, vampire friend was a homeowner but I learned she was staying with her mom who suffered a back injury from a rescue gone wrong.

The door opened by the time I planted both feet on the stained asphalt, and when I saw Caroline looking _exactly _the same since high school, my nerves began to show themselves and I started trembling.

"Hey!" Caroline beamed, arms outstretched as she flew across the front lawn, at human speed.

"Hey," I said and locked my skinny little arms around my friend. She started crying and I didn't want to feel left out so I joined her. She still wore Chanel No. 5 perfume, still wore her blonde locks in waves, still loved her 1950's inspired eyeliner, still looked ready to orchestrate a formal event at the drop of a dime.

Seeing Caroline again was like going through a conduit of emotions. Happiness. Joy. Sorrow. Giddiness. Longing. I may have changed my address but being next to her, I was home.

Caroline passed her cornflower blue eyes over my person. "You look so good which I expected nothing less because I practically raised you," she scrunched her nose. "You're still a shrimp, but you look good."

"Ha, ha," and gave her a perusal as well. "You look good for a woman your age."

"Watch yourself, chica. I can and will kick your ass up and down this street," she swiped a tear away with her thumb. "Come inside. It's like a million degrees out here."

Oh, yeah just that quickly I forgot about that wonderful southern oppressive humidity and heat. You literally could fry an egg on the pavement it was that hot outside.

The Forbes house had been renovated and redecorated from what I could tell. The furniture was less country and more Ethan Allen contemporary. I liked it.

"Is your mom feeling up for visitors?" I whispered and wondered why I was whispering.

"She was up about half an hour ago. Let me go check on her." Caroline zoomed off and was back in less than a second. "She's asleep which gives us plenty of time to talk and catch up. I made some of your faves. We can eat out here or in the kitchen."

"Here is good. It'll be like old times," I made myself comfortable on the heather gray sofa.

"I'll be right back," Caroline didn't even finish speaking before she was back with a tray laden with all my staples like she said with a huge pitcher of Long Island Ice Tea. Yippie.

Caroline sat down next to me and the air began to fill with nervous energy. There was so much I wanted and needed to say to her that I simply didn't know where to start. So I decided to start much in the same way I began with Stefan.

I placed my hand on top of Caroline's halting her movements. She gulped and looked over at me offering a tremulous smile. My fingers wrapped around hers and for a moment we just sat on the couch holding hands and we were those little girls again who would get lost every single time we played in the woods despite multiple warnings to stay clear of them.

"Caroline, you have every reason in the world to order me out of your house. I practically tossed you out of my life like you never even mattered to me, and I was so wrong for that. You're my sister, but none of that mattered to me because of what I was going through at the time. You tried to be there for me, but…I pushed you aside."

"Why did you…push me aside?" Caroline's voice turned raspy a sign she was trying not to cry.

I shrugged but refused to let go of her hand. "I can't blame Damon for how I treated you, but I just wanted a fresh start. I guess in my warped way of thinking remaining friends with you would be like reliving the past over and over again. It's a totally lame reason and I'm sorry for shutting you out. You would never do that to me."

Caroline nodded and squeezed my fingers affectionately. "Losing your friendship, Bonnie broke my heart. Spending nearly everyday with someone for twenty plus years and to wake up and learn that person is gone…I wanted to understand why'd you leave and not tell me, but I came up empty. I understand wanting a fresh start, but you were my _best_ friend and it was really fucked up the way you bolted without saying a word."

My eyes couldn't maintain direct eye contact with hers. They lowered to my lap. "I'm sorry," I intoned. "Saying sorry isn't enough."

"No, its not," there was definite edge to Caroline's tone. "Was remaining here after your divorce that horrible of an idea? If you told me you wanted out I happily would have gone with you."

"I needed distance, space, and I knew it wouldn't take long before Damon tried to use you to wear me down to reconsider the divorce. I didn't want to put you in the middle of our drama."

"I was always caught up in the middle of your drama, and I didn't mind because like you said we're sisters. You can admit it, Bonnie. You don't have to keep hiding behind Damon. You were tired of my friendship and that's why you asked Rebekah to move with you to Seattle Lake and not me."

I shook my head in the negative vigorously. I'm sure it looked that way, but that wasn't how things went down at all. "No, Caroline! It wasn't…I didn't pick one blonde over another. Rebekah was already living in Seattle Lake. I just ended up there by coincidence. It was never planned and I wasn't tired of you."

"Well, that's what your actions said. I can see you cutting ties with Stefan because he's Damon's brother, but I thought _our _bond our friendship was ironclad and nothing could break it. You called me once and then I'd only heard from you occasionally. What was I supposed to think?"

I couldn't say anything in defense of myself so I said nothing.

"I'm glad you're here trying to make amends but what if something like this happens again? Can you promise me it won't?"

"I give you my word, Caroline. I never want to put you through that again. I'll do anything to prove to you that our relationship is one I want to be in for the long haul.""

Caroline studied me for a second trying to discern the sincerity of my words. "You mean that?"

"Yes," I answered resolutely. "What do I have to do?"

"You have to agree to a blood contract."

I blinked not expecting her to say that. I hadn't exactly been practicing magic like I once did. "A blood contract? And what are the specifications of this blood contract?"

"I'm glad you asked," Caroline proceeded to pull out a folded piece of paper. She dramatically cleared her throat and began to read. "You have to promise that we are friends for life, and that the lines of communication will _always _be open. That we'll establish an honest policy and tell one another the truth no matter how painful it is. We have to promise to not become the sort of friends who only text or call each other on major holidays or birthdays, and that if we see one another about to make a colossal mistake we have the freedom to smack a bitch back in place. And we have to promise we'll name our first pet after each other. That's all I have so far," Caroline grinned sheepishly.

I shook my head. Yep that was just like Caroline.

"I can roll with that," I agreed. "But I want to add something. We get together twice a year for a girl's only vacation and see other parts of the world."

Caroline was practically bouncing around in her seat. "I totally accept the terms of our contract! We can officially sign once it's been amended and after we eat. So what have you been up to this past year?"

"I got a job working for this really rich, really smart, really good-looking man who is abrupt and mysterious, but fascinating."

"Oh, really? What do you do?"

I shucked off my shoes and curled my legs under me. "I'm his third assistant. I'm pretty much like Anne Hathaway's character in _The Devil Wears Prada, _except the Prada I wear I have to buy myself; it's certainly not loaned to me. What about you?"

"I'm running the Mystic Falls Cystic Fibrosis Foundation pretty much full-time now. We have an event coming up in September in Atlantic City. You should come."

September was a pretty busy month at CGI; I'd have to check my calendar to make sure my weekends would be free. "Just send me the invite and I'll do my best to be there. During the month of September I work on-call during the weekends, but I'm sure my boss can survive one weekend without me."

"You work on-call during the weekends? That blows. How do you have a social life?"

I have an incredible one—to a certain extent. "I do just fine."

"Really?" Caroline stared at me skeptically. "Have you gotten any since you've liberated yourself?"

Let me think. (Tapped my chin mentally) Outside of sleeping with my ex—nope. "I'm just taking things one day at a time. No need to jump into anything serious considering I've spent my latter teen years and twenties with one person."

"And I think that's why you should be out there sowing your wild oats, whipping your hair back and forth."

I smiled as I poured myself a generous glass of Long Island Iced Tea. "All this interest in who's peeling my panties off what about you, Miss Forbes? Who's cleaning your pipes these days?"

Caroline flushed. Oh, boy this should be good. Caroline wasn't just a maneater in the figurative sense but the literal sense as well considering her penchant for drinking human blood. She had been a serial dater before getting into a fairly serious relationship with Matt Donovan. That crashed and burned and then her affections turned towards Tyler Lockwood who I fully expected her to marry, but they were ripped apart because of a certain Original Hybrid's fixation on Caroline. Klaus and Caroline had a thing that was brief, as in lasted for a month, and then she had been flying solo after realizing so much of her time had been wrapped around one guy after another.

Now it would seem her self-imposed drought was over. And what an even bigger coincidence that Stefan would be involved with someone new after spending _years _loving and pining over She Who Shall Not Be Named.

"Who is he?" I asked.

"You know him very well."

"How well?"

"You were married to his brother."

I jumped off the couch and exclaimed. "OH MY GOD!" and then remembered that Miss Forbes was sleeping and I probably just scared her awake. "Caroline. You and Stefan?" I squealed like a child.

Caroline nodded before smiling so wide that her eyes became crescent moons. "It was like one day we were best friends and the next we just looked at each other and was like 'Wow, you really are amazing.' That might have been after we broke the bed and several pieces of furniture but who's counting?"

This was mind-boggling. On the first day Stefan Salvatore arrived in Mystic Falls and "enrolled" in school, Caroline had a thing for him, but he unfortunately had his eyes on someone else. They grew close during our senior year and I thought their platonic friendship would remain just that, platonic, but now there was romance blooming on the horizon and I couldn't be happier for them both. Stefan needed someone who would be able to keep him from sliding into darkness, and Caroline was so much light and warmth it would make that feat impossible.

"I'm so happy for you. I tried to butcher the truth out of Stefan but he wanted to remain tight-lipped."

"Probably because of this," Caroline pulled out a five carat diamond ring.

My eyes ballooned and the world tilted without warning. "You're engaged!"

"Yes," she was blushing and crying and being such a girl that I joined her. We spent the rest of the afternoon pouring through bridal magazines, reminiscing, crying into our drinks until I couldn't even taste the alcohol, and ended the right curled up on the couch watching movies.

Home sweet home.

* * *

Sometimes in life you feel like you've written yourself into a corner and there's not a single eraser handy or a bottle of White-Out to undo the litany of mistakes you've made. We go to sleep in one bed only to wake up in another scratching our heads wondering how we got so far off course. Time was a weapon and wasn't always willing to give you an extension. That's why it was important to make every second count because it may in fact be your last.

Unbuckling my seat belt, I climbed out of the car and faced the boardinghouse. Nothing about it had changed. There was still a dark and gloomy aura surrounding the place, but there was also love hiding between the cracks in the mortar and the walls of certain bedrooms. I still had the key to the place, but I doubted I'd need to use it since Damon and Stefan never learned the importance of locking the stupid door. I was here to revisit my past and to break with it for good. This wasn't the home I shared with Damon. Our house was located five miles away but I didn't want to see it.

Crossing over to the front door, I pressed down on the lever and volia, the door opened just how I suspected it would.

I was hit in the face with the scent of age and leatherbound books. The gallery leading to the living room was dark. The whole place felt like a haunted mansion and I guess in many respects it was. Too many people had lost their lives in this place and that was one of the main reasons why I didn't want to live here permanently.

It was surprisingly cool inside which hadn't been expected. No one had lived here for months since Stefan now resided with Caroline. Maybe the place was being rented, who knew. I didn't stick around long enough to ask Damon questions when our lawyers battled it out on who would get what during the proceedings. I could care less about physical possessions. I just wanted my original name back and my grimoires. Damon could have everything else.

Moving through the living room my eyes darted around. It had been cleaned recently, not a speck of dust to be found. The windows were grime free and there was a lemony scent to the air. Retracing my steps I went upstairs and walked down to Damon's bedroom.

I pushed the door open and was welcomed to the sight of his monstrosity of a bed. I couldn't stop my lips from forming into a smile. A stipulation of mine when we got married was that we needed brand new furniture. I didn't want to bring the bed he banged the lonely and single or married housewives of Mystic Falls into our martial home. That was a non-negotiation.

Looking to my immediate left I half expected him to saunter out of his bathroom with that lazy swagger of his, jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, torso exposed as he talked like he was bored with life or was simply overly amazed by his own genius. I could hear his boots stomping against the hardwood floor, and he'd stop to face me, and look me over from head to toe and back again before smirking because his thoughts were always filthy.

Clearing my throat I told my pulse not to even _think _about racing. Damon wasn't here but his presence was, watching my every move looking for a weakness, a chink in my armor so he could chisel away at my chastity belt.

I made myself at home on the edge of the bed, and spread my fingers along the expensive duvet that covered it.

Of course I had to be hit with a memory.

"_You sure you want to do this?"_

_From my position on the bed I nodded my head._

"_All right," Damon snapped on a pair of latex gloves. He moved between my legs and leaned over me. He gave me a kiss and then directed his eyes to the lower half of my body. The naked half. My thighs were spread eagle before him. "What made you want to do this?"_

"_It's a dare. Apparently, according to my suite mates I'm too straitlaced. I'm sure you'd agree to some extent, so we all sat around thinking what I could do to bring out my non-existent wild side. And the brilliant idea came to me, 'why don't I get a clit piercing'."_

"_Man to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation," Damon said and gazed at my vagina. To him it was a pretty thing. Just the right size to accommodate him. Back then I took great pride in grooming myself down there, keeping things neat and trim. And he took great pride in showing his appreciation for my jewel at least four days out of the week._

_Nowadays it often resembled a national forest but who cared. _

_Getting back to the story, Damon had sighed happily and shook his head to wake from his trance. He looked at me. "You trust me to pierce you?"_

_I nodded. "I wasn't going to let a complete stranger do it. You're the obvious choice."_

"_This, I have to say is something I've never done."_

_I gasped sarcastically. "Shocking. I'd be worried if you had done this before." _

_He snorted and pursed his lips before asking, "What even made you come up with this idea? There are other places to get pierced."_

_Shrugging, I replied, "It just popped up. At least I can hide this piercing. And only one person will get the privilege of looking at it," I looked at him knowingly._

"_That works for me," Damon grinned. He leaned over me again, holding himself up by the arms. "Are you ready? You still have time to back out."_

_I came to rest on my elbows and sealed my mouth over his. "I'm ready," I said definitively and plopped back on the bed. _

"_All right," he cleared his throat. "Well, little plain clit it was nice knowing you."_

_I giggled and then shrieked when Damon kissed it. _

"_Damon! Come on! Don't get distracted. Focus!"_

_He was staring at me again. "I am focusing." He flicked his index finger back and forth across my clit to entice it._

_Pointlessly I tried to clamp her legs together thinking it might ward off his ministrations. "Damon, quit it."_

"_I'm just saying goodbye."_

"_It's not going anywhere."_

"_But it's losing its innocence. You know I should be a gynecologist." _

_To that, I rolled my eyes and muttered. "Attention deficit." _

_Damon shook his head ruefully and sat down in the chair he pulled up to the edge of the bed so he could work better. He cleared his throat since this put him at eye level with my snatch. It was calling his name. If he sped this up he could get to the fun stuff, and at the time that's what the both of us wanted. He started to have a conversation with it._

"_When Bonnie and I first met we didn't get along."_

_I frowned as I stared up at the ceiling and listened as Damon took the piercing equipment out of its package._

"_And then one day she saved my life and fell head over heels in love with me."_

"_Um excuse me," I interrupted. "That's not how it happened at all and you're leaving out huge chunks of information like the fact you were and still kind of are a psychotic asshole who needed to be taught a slew of life lessons the hard way."_

_Damon hunched a shoulder. "Okay there was that," he was staring at my vagina once more. "But she and I were able to work out our differences and now she can't keep you away from me."_

_I couldn't help my subsequent eye roll. Damon was the one who had problems with keeping it locked in his pants. Anyways, I fidgeted when he began to sanitize the area, and even more the second I felt pressure._

"_We've had some good times, you and I. Some of the best. You hug me just right. You're so warm and clingy, and slippery," he cleared his throat as a sign this was getting to him. "You're going through a change, one you might not understand, but have faith I'll be there to…coax you through it. Orally of course. And hands. A good teacher is always hands on."_

_There was nothing more disturbing than listening to your boyfriend be a life coach to your twat. _

_I yelped when the needle went through, followed by another pinch, some tugging and pulling. _

"_Beautiful," Damon sighed wistfully. _

"_It's done?" I was ready to claw someone's eyes out mainly mine for thinking getting a piercing down there was a good idea. _

"_Yep," he snapped the gloves off and then bit into his wrist. He offered it up and I only took a few sips. "Do you feel any pain?" _

"_No," I sat up so I could see my new body piercing. Damon handed me a mirror to get a better look. It didn't look bad. "I can't believe you had an entire conversation with my vagina. What is wrong with you?"_

_Damon cupped my cheek. "Are you jealous of the bond I have with Medusa?"_

_My jaw dropped after that telling revelation. "You named it Medusa?"_

_He hunched a shoulder and then kissed my forehead. "With one look she turns me into stone," he wiggled his eyebrows so I'd get his meaning. "I had to call her something. Don't worry you're still my favorite girl. My only girl. Oh, and don't act like you didn't christen my penis with a name."_

_Guiltily I averted my eyes. "I didn't give it an official name. I just refer to it as Damon Junior."_

_He wiggled his pelvis back and forth. "Hear that DJ?" Pause. "I was thinking Mr. Long John." _

_I couldn't help it, I burst out into laughter. "So Medusa and Mr. Long John?"_

_Damon growled and crawled on the bed, crawled over me as I lowered myself back to the mattress. "Maybe I should change it to Perseus because it's about to be slayed." _

Out of thousands of memories to choose from that would be the one to jump out at me. Well, that piercing has long since been removed, and the hole closed. Much like a lot of things in my life. Climbing off the bed, I took one final look at the room that pretty much started it all.

"Goodbye."

This time when I left it wasn't in a whirlwind of anger but acceptance. The past was the past, and there was only so much holding on one person could do before they found they had been left behind because the future had arrived.

Damon Salvatore would always be apart of me and I him, and there wasn't much that could change it.

* * *

After my walk down memory lane at the boardinghouse I met up with Caroline to burn out the funds left on my Discover Card prior to us going out to a new upscale restaurant that opened in town, and hitting Mystic Falls' one and only club.

The drinks were good and strong, and the men, I forgot all about southern hospitality. When I declined a drink or a dance offer, the brave soul didn't cop an attitude and pretend he was doing me some favor, merely bowed out graciously before moving on to his next target.

Being here I couldn't get my old life out of mind. So much that I popped up at my dad's job.

My dad, good ole Rudy wore his age well and rocked the heck out of his bald head. He caught me up on the goings-on and offered to cook me dinner, but I declined and said that I had an early flight to catch and wanted to get as much sleep as possible.

Time flew when you were having fun but crawled when you were in misery. Ironic.

I held on tightly to Caroline as she saw me off to the airport. Our time together was short but extremely therapeutic. In a way we were soul mates and leaving her again made pain tighten in my chest, but I tramped it down, pushed it aside, and wiped her tears with the pads of my thumbs.

"I'll call you as soon as I get home," I promised.

"I can't believe you're leaving already. You just got here," she whined.

"I know."

"Tell that fiancé of mine not to stay gone too long. My mom is slowly on the mend and won't be out of commission for much longer."

"All right. I love you, Caroline."

She pulled me into another embrace. "I love you, too. Don't take so long to visit next time."

"I won't. Scout's honor."

We smiled at one another as I clutched my rolling suitcase and began to head towards my terminal. I was missing her already.

* * *

**Seattle Lake**

It was raining when I returned home. Rebekah phoned me and grilled me about my trip and reunion with Caroline. The two of them never really got along but they were cordial when necessary, and fought on the same side when they had no other choice. I never thought they'd be good friends so I never pressured them to hangout when my friendship with Rebekah began to take off.

When I told Rebekah the happy news she was silent for a long time before finally saying, "Well it's about bloody time Stefan moved on from the doppelbitch."

That was her one and only opinion about Stefan and Caroline's pending nuptials that would take place next spring in Kiawah Island, South Carolina. If you couldn't tell she was ecstatic.

I knew without asking that Rebekah wanted to know if I saw or made any attempt to contact She Who Shall Not Be Named. She almost got hung up on for that unasked question.

But I wouldn't be able to avoid _her _for long considering I agreed to be Caroline's maid-of-honor. Damon was naturally Stefan's best man, and _she _would be an additional bridesmaid. This should make for an interesting time.

With nothing to do but look at the raindrops as they fell from the overcast sky, I decided to log on to my trusty stankalicious website to see what the pervs were up to today.

I scrolled through questions and responses until I found one that piqued my interest. The atmosphere was set with Floetry urging me to "Say Yes", and for old times sake I lit several candles from Yankee Candle Factory, the wicks igniting without the use of a match.

I found something that gave me pause. It wasn't a question but a challenge.

_Dress yourself in your sexiest attire and role play with someone without them knowing you're role playing. Take it as far as you like as far as you're comfortable with going._

In other words, act like it's a typical Friday or Saturday night at a bar or club. Didn't we all in some form or another act like someone we're not when trying to impress the opposite or same sex? That wasn't a challenge. That was life.

There were other challenges. Buy a handsome stranger or sexpot a drink and strike up a conversation. Pretend to have an explicit conversation on the phone while sitting next to someone you found attractive etcetera, etcetera.

A chat box popped up and startled me. Don't ask me why I began to look around my apartment like I was in the library or some place that offered free Wi-Fi, and I expected to come across a pair of eyes leering at me, but I did. I giggled at the person's chat name.

_DIckUDown_

More than likely this was probably a woman or somebody's child. If it were the former, ha-ha real funny bitch. If it were the latter you needed a belt to that behind.

I typed one word, "Hi," I said aloud.

The reply was instantaneous.

_DIckUDown: R u horny?_

So presumptuous. I typed, "No."

_DIckUDown: Good, I don't lke horny bitches. 2 easy. I want 2 get U wet._

I laughed and then promptly typed "good night" and signed off.

Rotating in my chair, staring up at the ceiling it was during these times I wished I didn't live alone. At least if I had a roommate I would have someone to talk to. I didn't even have a cat to stare at me judgmentally. Well, I had another day of vacation left and I would make the most of it or at least try to.

The universe must have known what I needed because my intercom buzzed; the one that let me know someone was standing outside of my building hoping to get in.

My brow furrowed because I wasn't expecting anyone, and then I realized too late that I hadn't buzzed Damon in the last time he was here which meant he followed in behind someone, or compelled someone to let him inside. Why was I thinking that Damon compelled people left from right when all he needed were those stupid eyes to get people to acquiesce to his demands? And why was he always on my fucking mind!

Running my fingers through my hair, I strolled to my intercom which was adjacent from the door and held down the little button that allowed me to speak.

"Yes?"

"Hey, Bon its Stefan. You wanna let me up?"

"This is a pre-recording. Ms. Bennett isn't home right now…"

"Funny. I brought Moet and chocolate covered truffles."

"Come on in!" I quickly buzzed my former bro-in-law soon to be my "play" bro-in-law (?) into the inner sanctum of my home. I quickly looked down and frowned a bit. I wasn't dressed in anything provocative. Just an oversized tee from my Alma Mater and leggings.

Seconds later there was a rhythmic knock on my door and I tossed it open.

"Hey, Stefan!" I beamed.

"Hey," he greeted in return and then cleared his throat pointedly.

I slapped my forehead. "Oh, right. Please come in."

"Thank you," Stefan waltzed over the threshold and kissed my cheek.

He presented his gifts of welcome to which I quickly relieved him of and then took his wet jacket hanging it on the coat rack. Stefan looked around my pretty massive and well-decorated apartment, condo, little slice of heaven. He pivoted on his boots to face me.

"This is nice. I like it."

"Thank you," I entered the kitchen and began searching my cabinets for my good champagne flutes. I had fakes ones purchased at the Dollar Store, but I wanted to use the ones that sung when you circled a wet finger around the rim.

Spotting them, I pulled out two, sat them on the counter and then, Stefan was right there to pop the cork. He was a part time mind reader.

The bubbly flowed and I bust open that golden box of Godiva chocolate and stuffed my mouth like a chipmunk at the height of acorn season. I'm sure I made a lovely sight.

"How was your trip to Mystic Falls?" Stefan asked and coolly sipped his champagne. So dang siddity. He even had the nerve to hold his pinky in the air.

"My trip was excellent as I'm sure you already know. You have a lot of explaining to do, Stefan."

He had the nerve to look surprised. "I do?"

My left eye narrowed. "Don't play cute. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The fact that one) you were dating my best friend. Two) that your dating turned into a wedding proposal. And three) that you didn't fess up! What do you have to say for yourself?"

Stefan shrugged nonchalantly. "Caroline wanted to break the news and you know me. I can't deny my lady love anything."

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the box of chocolates and my drink and paraded to the living room. Reaching for the remote after getting comfy on the sofa I clicked on the tube and channel surfed. Stefan joined me and even took the initiative to bring the alcohol. He placed the bottle on a coaster as not to ruin the fine wood finish of my coffee table.

"How do you feel about El-,"

I held up a hand to stop Stefan in mid-sentence. "I'll survive. The day will be about you and Caroline and no one else."

Out of my peripheral I saw Stefan nod. He took another generous sip of champagne. "You know Damon doesn't live far from here."

I scoffed. Of course he didn't. "That's nice," I replied disinterestedly.

"Pretending to hate him is only a form of foreplay," Stefan whispered conspiratorially.

I stared at him aghast and a bit tickled. "Is that what you think I've been doing all this time? _Pretending _to hate him? I don't hate Damon."

"So why won't you give him another chance?"

"Ohmygod did you come over here to ambush me with feels or something? This is why I prefer to hang around other disgruntled single people because people in relationships are always trying to play matchmaker."

Stefan shifted on the couch to face me head on. I, however, kept my pretty little eyes glued to the TV screen not really paying a lick of attention to what was going on.

"I can foresee things being extremely tense at my wedding."

"Then maybe you should elope."

"I wanted to, but Caroline won't even consider it. She's been planning her wedding since she was two."

I snorted. That was very true.

"And I want to make sure that all or a good majority of her wishes and fantasies comes true. Damon will be there as my best man. You're her maid-of-honor, and Elena will be a bridesmaid. It'll be the first time all three of you will have seen and spent any significant amount of time together since things came to a head four years ago," Stefan laid his hand on my shoulder. I finally looked at him. "I want you to be comfortable, Bonnie."

I nodded in understanding and patted my bro-in-law's hand. "I'll be okay. Sure, things will be awkward but we're all grown ups to some degree."

"Technically I'm frozen at seventeen, Caroline too, and Damon, he's ten."

We shared a laugh at my ex's expense.

Things grew deceptively quiet which meant Stefan was thinking really hard about something he wanted to broach, but knew either I'd be receptive to whatever he had to say or against it to the point I'd tossed him out on his ass. I was curious to see which way I would respond as well.

"Maybe…a month or so before the wedding you and Elena might sit down and…"

I torpedoed off that couch and glared at him. "That's a _very _bad idea."

"Why?"

"Why?" I shrieked in disbelief he'd even question _why_.

"Bonnie, I rather you and Elena hash out your shit _before _my wedding than on the day of it. Please."

Ugh! Stefan just had to beg. Been begging since 1864.

"It's really that important to you?" I placed my hands on my hips.

"Yes," Stefan nodded. "And it'll do you some good as well. I know you. I've known you for a long time. You hold on to things and this…animosity will only eat you alive and rule your life."

"It doesn't rule my life. Now you're being melodramatic."

"Call it what you want. But you are. You don't even want people to speak Elena's name in your presence and if you're over it, it shouldn't even faze you but it does. Just let go and let God, Bonnie."

I smiled and then laughed. Amen, brother, amen.

I sat my derrière back on the sofa and Stefan wasted no time throwing an arm over my shoulder.

"I'll do my best to make sure Damon doesn't irritate you too much," Stefan promised.

Gazing at him askance I'd believe it when it happened. "The things I do for you," I muttered.

My cheek was graced with another kiss. "No, the things I do for _you_. Let's find some really bad reality show to watch and make fun of people."

"All right. Honey Boo-Boo should be on."

Chapter end.

**A/N: That Stefan…still convincing Bonnie to do things, but does this mean Bonnie will actually have this heart-to-heart with Elena? We'll find out. The heat will pick back up next update. I want to get a little Bonnie/Erik, Bonnie/Christian, and of course Bamon next chapter, so I need to start brainstorming now. I hoped you guys enjoyed the Baroline reunion and Bonnie's walk down memory lane. Until next time, love you guys!**


	8. My Sweet Venus

**A/N: Happy Tuesday everyone! I know in my last author's note I said there'd be Erik/Bonnie interaction, but unfortunately he won't be making an appearance this chapter. I got to writing and Bonnie/Christian and Bamon pretty much dominated and this was running pretty long, and I didn't want to cut anything out so here we are. He will be making an appearance soon, hopefully. Well, I hope you enjoy! And thank you so much for the continued support. Reading your thoughts keeps me on my toes to pump out updates so keep 'em coming. Thanks so much! **

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

The first thought to hit most people's minds when facing a brand new workday was: when is lunch? And somewhere between watching the clock slowly inch its way to twelve, one, or two, people tend to ask: what mood is my bitch of a boss going to be in today? What side of the bed did this asshole roll out of and how is it going to ruin the rest of my day? How many times will I want to punch someone in the face for making a stupid, random comment? And if I take this stapler and a few other items from the stock room will anyone notice?

My thoughts didn't necessarily run on that course. Between the hours of 8-5:30, Christian Grey centered my thoughts in military fashion. Everything became by the book, and had to be in its rightful and correct place. If something or someone wasn't where they were supposed to be this well-oiled machine would malfunction, breakdown, ceasing all activity while someone received a pink slip and a kick to the ass out the door. Mr. Grey was actually a just and fair employer. He didn't hold previous mistakes over someone's head, but it was the unspoken law around these parts that if you fucked up royally, you might be given a second chance to redeem yourself and keep your job, but you would never be trusted with authority ever again.

Being an assistant didn't make me exempt from anything. A reprimand from Mr. Grey never consisted more of a slightly raised voice that reverberated along the slate stone walls, and those bedroom eyes darkening until you were positive lightning would sprout out of them. Maybe I was wrong for thinking that was sexy, but Mr. Grey didn't believe in losing his cool in front of an audience, and he didn't believe in destroying furniture, and having a tantrum.

Unlike someone else I knew.

I shook my head to rid myself of the coming comparisons between my past and my current. What was I saying? Mr. Grey wasn't a current anything. Still, that did little to explain the actual current I felt racing through the nebulous veins in my body leaving me vulnerable and aware of everything within my direct line of view.

I was breaking all the rules today, folks. Taking a page from Sam Winchester, I was reveling over the fact it was yet another Tuesday. Except my coworkers' work week began yesterday, so they had their Monday, but this was _my _Monday, and I was slightly discombobulated.

I can assure you I received a warm welcome from The Blondes when I appeared having been absent the day before. _Not. _Cheryl looked as if she ate an entire batch of lemons and chased it with battery acid, whereas Dakota merely pursed her lips together before remembering to smile.

"Hello, ladies," I greeted my bosses as I dumped my professional satchel on my desk making more noise than necessary because I felt like disrupting the quiet harmony in our workstation. "How was ya'lls holiday." Yep, made myself sound like a true Bama from the south. Grams would have been so proud.

"Welcome back, Bonnie," that was Dakota. "I had a wonderful time in France. St. Tropez is so beautiful. Have you ever been?"

I picked up the stack of messages in my inbox and flicked through them trashing the ones I didn't need before answering. "A couple of times. It is beautiful."

"You've been to St. Tropez?" Miss Cheryl Prescott asked in disbelief.

Yes, this ole Southern gal was a jetsetter. I made eye contact with Cheryl and nodded. "The first time was after I graduated high school, and the second was…a little while later."

Actually Damon whisked me there for a week during our honeymoon world tour. I told him I wanted to see the world and Damon made it happen in forty days. We didn't get to travel to all of the countries I wanted due to the weather in some parts of the world, and cancelled flights. But I had seen many of the places I dreamed of and that had been enough for me.

There was an actual twinkle in Dakota's eyes. I peeped at her left hand to see if her long time boyfriend might have finally defrosted his feet and popped the question, but her finger was still bare, but she didn't look unhappy in the slightest. Maybe she dumped said boyfriend and upgraded to a nude Frenchmen?

"You seem like you had a nice time, Dakota," I remarked unnecessarily.

"Oh, I had the absolute best time! I could just talk about it for days," Dakota gushed to which Cheryl—the balloon popper had to clear her throat pointedly. Dakota got the message and turned down her blinding enthusiasm. "We can talk more about that later because we have a tremendous amount of work to do."

"Did you enjoy your holiday, Bonnie?" Cheryl inquired.

I grinned then, thinking not of the time I spent with Caroline in Mystic Falls, or my reunion with Stefan, or anything else precisely related to my vacation, though all of it was nice, but the fact that I took Cheryl's place and attended a function with _the _Christian Grey.

"I most certainly did. It had a very interesting start," I bit my bottom lip wondering if I should throw it up in both of their faces about attending the silent auction with Christian, but then I decided against it. The Blondes might have thought they were slick by coming off as being prim and proper business minders, but I knew gossiping hounds when I saw them, and those two were a pack of St. Bernard's drooling over every and any little morsel of controversy.

Cheryl hitched her penciled eyebrow into a severe arch when I didn't continue.

"I had a good one, but like Dakota said, there's a lot of work to get done."

"It must have been…considering you were out yesterday."

And?

Cheryl flicked something out of her fingernail. "Your attendance has been without mark…"

"Mr. Grey and myself sent out emails saying I was taking an additional day of vacation per his request," I reminded slave driver numero uno.

"I saw the emails," Dakota concurred and I knew that would be the only comment she would raise to give verification to something Cheryl knew good and damn well was fact. Mr. Grey didn't take a piss without letting us know beforehand, so it wouldn't have slipped his mind to remind everyone I would be out of the office. So Cheryl trying to act brand new and like I was in trouble for taking an additional day of vacation, a day I rightfully and legally earned, she could go ride a cactus and get over it.

I sat down in my chair and went about my usual morning routine. After getting a cup of coffee, I slipped into Mr. Grey's office to do my check.

That was typically done on Monday, but since I hadn't been in, which I'm sure Cheryl and Dakota just loved, I entered his sanctum, and spent a good fifteen minutes violating his space.

I checked his mini refrigerator to make sure it was full of the essentials: water, organic protein drinks, fruit, and Rocky Road ice cream. Don't ask. He just liked eating ice cream whenever the mood hit him.

Next I checked his closets. Yep, he had more than one. One was for the suits Mr. Grey always kept on "standby", and once those suits served their purpose he moved them to his dry cleaning closet where I had them sent by messenger to this obscenely expensive environmentally friendly cleaning business that naturally operated in another state! His standby suits were hand delivered by his personal, personal assistant Taylor. Taylor accompanied Mr. Grey to places us three assistants weren't allowed to go—namely his various homes across the continent and world presumably running errands and calling shots via Mr. Grey's authority of course.

His dry cleaning closet was empty—for now. My last and final check was in his private bathroom. No, I wasn't there to make sure he had toilet paper, but to make sure everything was clean to his exact specifications. All surfaces were shiny and polished to where I could see my reflection, and I could eat off the floor, in theory and one I would never test out.

Satisfied that my boss would be satisfied, I went back to my desk to get a few more minutes of me time.

Naturally that's when I would receive a message alert saying there had been a change in the schedule. Our bi-weekly meetings, which should have taken place yesterday, had been bumped back to today, and would be held in Mr. Grey's office at exactly 9:15 sharp. It was now 8:45.

"Shit!" I cursed and nearly came out of my heels as I sprinted back to my desk, picked up my phone, and called food services. I had a derisive thought back to when Damon insulted me and what I did for a living by likening my secretarial skills to passing out candy. Being an assistant did sometimes feel as if I were playing hostess to this multi-billion dollar company offering food and beverages to clients, but damnit if I was going to be a hostess I rather be a hostess for the one with the deed to the property in his name, and no one else.

I didn't have to wait long before the line was connected. "Code Red," I breathed into the phone. "Diabetes and liquid crack I need it by 9:10 can you help me, Roberta? The bi-weekly meeting has been changed to today."

Roberta, the manager of food services laughed at my euphemisms for doughnuts, pastries, and coffee. "I'll take care of everything, Bonnie. Am I bringing it straight to Mr. Grey's office?"

"Yes, thank you so much, Roberta."

"No, problem."

We hung up at the same time. One crisis aborted. I quickly opened my email and did some major power reading because I hadn't checked the thing in a little over a week, so as you can imagine my inbox runneth over, and that's where I spotted an email from my boss with that stupid, little paperclip icon next to his name.

An Attachment.

Spelled copies!

"How many?" I cringed as I clicked on it, and then relaxed. It was only the bulletin for the meeting, the topics Christian wanted to discuss and I only needed to make fifteen. "Easy," I said, and then with a few clicks of the mouse, my printer was whirling to life. I printed ten additional copies just in case. People lost things in the most unusual way. I was walking up the stairwell and a gust of wind just snatched it out of my hands. Can I get another copy?

I swung my chair around from side to side wondering if I was forgetting something. Yes, send out the reminder to those who attended the meeting.

I opened up a new email, but then stopped to see if perhaps one of The Blondes had done so. They hadn't. The reminder I got earlier was straight from my boss' email and only went to us assistants.

Quickly I sent out the reminder and got instant replies back. No one lollygagged when it came to Mr. Grey.

Unfortunately one of the attendees wouldn't be able to make it, so I had yet another item to do and check off my list. Wonderful.

Dakota and Cheryl came running from parts unknown, blonde hair flying, cheeks slightly flushed. I only spared them a glance before my attention was caught by the ding of the elevator.

All the blood in my body froze. The Blondes had ceased their activity as well, staring over the top of their cubes like prairie dogs looking for predators. According to Mr. Grey's itinerary he would be arriving just five minutes before the start of the meeting, and Cheryl, as custom was to meet him on the helipad located on the top of the building. Since Cheryl was at her desk, exchanging her clogs for her heels, and finger combing her hair, that couldn't have been the boss.

To my relief and delight it was food services. I noted the time. 9:05. Sheesh, when you were trying to accomplish a million things in a half an hour where did the time go? Jumping up from my desk, I helped Roger with setting up everything on the conference table, thanked him profusely, and received yet another alert on my BlackBerry.

The eagle has landed.

Rushing back to my desk, I was certainly working off all the food I consumed over my vacation, I shamelessly primped myself back to perfection. Made sure there wasn't a single hair out of place, made sure my lipstick hadn't smudged or rubbed off on my teeth, made sure I hadn't unwittingly gotten any stains on the white Donna Karan dress I was rocking.

Oh, like I said earlier, I was breaking all the rules.

Now, Mr. Grey wasn't adverse to his female employees wearing dresses. They had to be tailored and could only come in one of four approved colors: white, black, navy, or gray. No spaghetti straps; this was a professional environment after all, no plunging neck or back lines, and thigh-dresses were prohibited. It was at the discretion of the manager to send someone home for inappropriate attire, but people were pretty good about keeping things conservative here.

I felt I was taking a big risk. Not because my dress revealed anything. My neck line stopped just a little below my clavicle, the hem ended two inches above my knee, it cinched my waist with a thin black patent leather belt, and my deltoids were covered, but my arms and legs were exposed. And I must take the time to pat myself on the back for the four inch thin heel patent leather pumps on my feet. I got those babies on sale for a cool $150 bucks when the original sales price was more than my car note. I drove an Audi. The same one Tony Stark drove in the first Iron Man movie.

What does that tell you?

To add some color to my otherwise monochromatic attire, I wore fire engine red lipstick.

Grabbing the printouts, and my iPad, I dipped inside Mr. Grey's office for the final time before the meeting started, went around the table laying out copies of the bulletin at each chair, and then heard that infamous ding of the elevator once more.

Dakota was in her spot next to the door, and I stood beside her, hand on the handle.

The doors parted and it was like life itself came to a standstill.

There he was, head down, reading a paper wearing an Armani suit, oblivious to his surroundings, but I knew better. Mr. Grey was not the kind of man who didn't pay attention to detail. He designed his life around detail, to exact specifications that you couldn't find a more anal human being on the planet. Well, I'm sure there were a few out there who could give this enigma of a man a run for his money bags, but until I encountered them, came across them myself, he was the rule.

I stood a little taller in my heels but even with them on my head still only came a little above Dakota's shoulder. Must be nice to be statuesque even while barefoot and instantly picked out of a crowd where for the vertically challenged we had to make ourselves stand out in different ways.

But back to Mr. Grey. Cheryl trailed a little behind him, respectively. Her lips were moving and I couldn't hear what she was saying, but it didn't appear to be anything of interest to Christian. He kept right on reading his newspaper with one hand stuffed in his pocket. As if he could disguise what I caught a faint outline of the night of the auction.

Schlong!

Click, I mentally changed the channel of my thoughts.

For being the busy, on-the-go mogul that he was, Christian never carried more than his cell phone and iPad. He didn't believe in briefcases so when thinking of what to purchase him for Christmas getting one with his initials either monogrammed or stitched into leather would be a waste of money. Since this was mostly a digital and electronic age we lived in, most people didn't carry anything other than those two items.

Yet I wondered why my purse still weighed twenty pounds by itself and I could _never _find anything when I needed it especially at the checkout counter. Especially given the fact everything I needed was in my wallet and on my phone.

Puzzling. The intricacies and mysteries of being a woman.

"Good morning, Mr. Grey," Dakota greeted.

Mr. Grey didn't break stride or look up from reading whatever article held his interest. "Dakota," he mumbled in that succinct tone I had come to expect.

I was next up to bat. "Good morning, Mr. Grey." I almost slipped and called him Christian, and had to fight not to curtsey.

He looked up then, made eye contact, too (it was like being hit with a snowball) and then said, "Bonnie. Welcome back."

I lie to you not, I heard Dakota blink. Cheryl tightly compressed her lips together.

I pushed the door open wider so Mr. Grey could enter his office. His elbow slightly brushed against my belly causing Christian to look back at me, as I stared at him, my mouth open a little where I'm sure he could see my bottom teeth. Almost in a delayed reaction I smiled and Christian smirked.

As customary all assistants would pile in his office awaiting further instructions, but Mr. Grey did something else out of the ordinary.

He slapped his newspaper on his desk, and looked up. "Cheryl, Dakota, thank you."

He dismissed them, but not me.

Steel gray eyes bored into mine and then little by little they began to lower, take in my attire, until they paused for the longest time at my feet. Maybe he really did have a foot fetish.

I remained as rigid as a statue. Hell, I wasn't even breathing. I dared not move a muscle until he told me to, afraid I might let loose something into the atmosphere that might work against me in the future. Technically the day had already started, but _my _day didn't start until the boss was in, and he was certain_ in_ and was getting me up. If you get my drift.

Mr. Grey snapped his eyes back to my face and paused momentarily on my lips. The tip of his tongue snaked out of the corner of his mouth and quickly darted back inside.

I cleared my throat and spoke. "Was there something you needed, sir?"

"Yes. Please come in and shut the door."

I did as ordered. Mr. Grey took a seat at his desk and automatically unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. I thought he might go for the third, but he didn't. Poo.

"How was your vacation?" Mr. Grey made a steeple of his hands and reclined back in his seat.

"The start was unexpected," and I tried my very best to keep my tone light, airy, and professional, but my inner flirt wouldn't be contained. The evil bitch had it out for me. I swore she did. Trying to earn me a reputation I didn't need as it would add another complication to my life.

"_Very _unexpected," Mr. Grey concurred.

Oh, wow moving right along. "I reunited with some old and dear friends; ate a lot of really good food, got some rest, and now I'm back. How was your holiday, sir?"

"Tiresome. I didn't get to relax or have as much fun as I wanted to, and I only had one highlight that I've replayed constantly."

Oh really? I waited for him to tell me what was the highlight.

"Are we all set for the meeting?"Christian switched the nature and course of the conversation.

"We are. Oh, Mrs. Logan won't be able to attend the 9:15 meeting. She fell and broke her leg early this morning and is scheduled for surgery at two. I've already ordered her flowers. She should have them by the time she's out of recovery."

Mr. Grey smirked in approval. "First day back and you're already on top of things. Glad you enjoyed your time off because I can't guarantee if you'll be given a reprieve before the holidays. This new merger I'm working on…I'll need my best people."

"I'm here for you, sir."

Christian didn't respond back, just stared at me with those eyes where I wondered if he was wondering if anything coming out of my mouth had a double meaning.

"In any capacity that I need?" his tone of voice dropped, became deeper, and those eyes darkened.

I nodded and felt my mouth drying up. "Yes, sir."

"Good," he turned his attention away from me and started attacking the keyboard of his Mac. "Got damnit," he cursed shortly thereafter.

I took a step forward. "Is something wrong, Mr. Grey?"

"I think IT changed my password after they ran their diagnostic," he searched around the immediate area of his desk looking to see if they might have scribbled down his temporary password. He cursed again which meant they hadn't.

I was going break yet another rule. Mr. Grey is crazy when it comes to decorum and private space unless he was the one doing the violating. Reminded me of someone, now who could that be? But I rounded his desk and started down at my boss who gazed up at me.

"I can take a look."

Now this would be tricky because his Mac sat caddy corner on his desk, and I'd have to lean over him to reach his keyboard and Mr. Grey didn't look like he was going to budge. If I did what I would have done without conscious thought for anyone else, my butt would be in their face, and I couldn't put my ass in my boss' face.

Christian must have realized this predicament at some point but for a second he looked hesitant to move. Maybe it was my girlish pride saying he didn't want to miss the opportunity to have an unobstructed view of my well-endowed derriere, but the employer in him knew it would be a bad business move to remain where he was and be caught with his assistant leaning over him in a slightly sexual position. Nevertheless, Christian gripped the arm rests of his chair until his knuckles had turned white, and I heard him breathe deeply.

I took a step back thinking I had upset him, but he rolled away and then stood up altogether.

"Please, see what you can do."

My eyes dropped to the floor as I shuffled closer to his system, and I ended up bending down regardless because there was no way I would sit in his chair. Not with him in the room at least. I wasn't that bold.

I put in a few of the temporary pass codes IT had given me if I ever encountered this problem. None of them worked. Out of my peripheral I saw Christian gripping the back of his chair and with me stuck between it and his desk, I felt cornered and in a way I was. He was nowhere close enough to touch me without having to extend something, but the scent of his cologne and aftershave filled my nostrils, and the fact he was standing as close to me if not closer than when we were seated in the back of his Phantom, my nerve endings responded to the olfactory stimulation.

"I'll have to call and put in a request ticket for them to unlock your system," I announced. Automatically I reached for his phone, but Christian placed his hand on top of mind and slammed the receiver back down.

I stared at my boss over my shoulder and gulped.

"That won't be necessary, Miss Bennett. I can take care of it myself."

Back to Miss Bennett, I see. Maybe my presumptuousness _had_ irritated him.

However, that couldn't explain why his hand was still on top of mine. The palm of his hand was large, completely covered my limb, and it was warm, no—hot! His fingers curled over mine and then Mr. Grey was holding my hand and pulled me to an upright position and then finally away from his desk.

Not once during this entire exchange had we broken eye contact.

"You overindulge me and I'll get stagnant, lazy. There are few things I do know how to resolve on my own."

A blush settled over my cheeks for no good reason. "I'm sorry, Mr. Grey. I just want to make your job as easy and stress free as possible."

"Thank you for your consideration, Bonnie, but it's not necessary," Mr. Grey ruptured the spell by checking the time on his watch. "The meeting is set to start in two minutes. Take your place at the table."

Sitting, standing, spread eagle, or bent over?

I nodded and then slowly slid my hand out of his hold and walked away.

* * *

We were well into the meeting, and I was following along as best I could, though my mind was in several hundred other places right this second. You'd think with my background I'd be used to sitting around and discussing things, hammering out the fine details of an undertaking that would affect millions of lives on a global scale, but I couldn't get into the moment.

When I was apart of a team, a clandestine fraternity that had mostly consisted of grudge carrying blood drinkers who failed to learn the importance of cooperation, I usually had to take up the helm as leader, guide, because without me things would have fallen apart.

Those days were long over and I didn't miss them. All that pressure and responsibility had robbed me of my teen years and the early part of my twenties before I decided to take a definitive stand and reclaim my life by focusing on my life and making myself happy.

"One final thing before we conclude," Mr. Grey's authoritative voice blew apart my preoccupation. "I'll be making the formal announcement on Friday, but I wanted those gathered here to know I've made my final decision on the new board members. Originally only one spot was to be occupied, but two more candidates have piqued my interest so they will be joining as well."

Mr. Grey paused dramatically and though he wasn't looking at anything in particular I felt like he was eyeing me specifically, and my blood pressure began to climb. Don't do this to me, man. We had a good morning don't ruin it! I practically wanted to jump up on the table and yell in his face, but I kept my composure.

In all honesty, I didn't listen to the first two names spoken. One was male, the other female, both of them had more letters behind their names than the alphabet, specialized in one area of commerce or another, were baby geniuses, philanthropists, and all that jazz. Just like everyone else who served on the gotdamn board. There were polite applause after the names and credentials were revealed, but I was waiting for Christian to say that final name.

"And lastly, this candidate though not as well known in the private and public sector of business does bring to the table something I think will benefit CGI and its affiliates greatly. In fact, I'm giving him a position as well in our archives division for the next merger CGI is about to undergo. His name is Damon Salvatore and you'll meet him as well as the other two new board members at our annual Dinner on the Roof being held next week. Make sure to make them feel welcome."

I had to force my hands to clap. Mr. Grey looked right at me then and I couldn't describe the look that might have been on my face, but I'm sure I wasn't smiling, and I'm pr-e-tt-y sure I didn't look like I was in awe or agreement of his decision making skills.

The meeting quickly adjourned. The attendees picked up their trash, printout, and electronic devices and filed out of the room. I was asked to hang back once again.

This time around I was not gonna behave like a well-trained poodle.

Mr. Grey came out of his jacket. Was this dude for real? He moved in slow motion, or maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me, nonetheless he shed his jacket like a snake shirking its skin and rested his laurels on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. The beautifully woven fabric of his shirt clung to his arms and torso like skin, and I easily spotted those bulging biceps, one I had gotten to know _extremely_ well one Friday two weeks ago.

I could give a rat's ass about that right now.

"You disagree with my decision on the final board member?" Christian stated the more than obvious.

"This is your company, sir. You hire and fire at your discretion."

"I understand that you were once married to Mr. Salvatore. I don't need to know the exact nature of your divorce because honestly I don't care, but do you feel him being a part of CGI will affect your work ethic?"

"There shouldn't be any problems, Mr. Grey," and if there were shouldn't _you_ have asked me that question _before _making the decision to hire Damon? "If there were I understand that this is not the place to air them out. It would be unprofessional. If you feel Mr. Salvatore will be a valuable asset to the company, then quite simply, he is."

I could talk the lingo when I wanted to and right now I was talking bullshit very fluently.

Mr. Grey chuckled and then pushed away from his desk, and approached me. Not long he began to circle me, but then stopped and faced me head on. I stared into his orbs and noticed that they weren't simply gray but around his irises, I spotted turquoise.

"No need be so formal, Miss Bennett."

My mouth got away from me. "You tell me not to be formal and then you address me as Miss Bennett."

Rose pink lips lifted in a crooked smile. "I guess I earned that rebuke." He began circling me again leaving delicious whiffs of his cologne in his wake.

"May I be frank, sir?"

"Of course," he stopped his pacing and faced me.

"What the hell do you want with Damon Salvatore?"

Okay, there were so many different, numerous, way more respectful ways to ask that question, but that didn't diminish the fact I needed to know. I needed to be sure that Christian came to his decision of his own will. I needed to know Damon did not compel his way on the board.

Christian stared down at me sharply, nostrils slightly flared on his aquiline nose, and a very pink hue inched up his neck and found its new home on the apples of his cheeks. Though everything in me was telling me to look away and stare at something else that defiant little bone in my body wouldn't allow me to back down.

"With all due respect, that's none of your business, Bonnie."

I curtly nodded my head and then looked at a point over his shoulder.

"What do you know of Caduceus Incorporated?"

Okay that question completely threw me off and took me by surprise. I hesitated as I racked my brain and then remembered something.

"I know the acting CEO, name escapes me at the moment, is playing Texas Hold 'Em with the company, and knows if he sells prematurely he'll only amass a 35% gain on his original investment. He's waiting for Hippocrates International to go public so that the shares on his company will take a massive dip and he can buy them all back earning close to $436 million after selling rather than settling for the $226 million the latest buyer has offered."

Mr. Grey looked thoroughly astonished and so did I. I'm so glad I picked up that used newspaper on the bus ride to work and read that blurb. Whoo. Probably just saved my job.

Gray eyes raked over me. He should really stop looking at me like that. "You have a wonderful eye for detail. What else have you been keeping your eye on?"

Your perfectly formed arse.

"It's my job to watch your every move, sir. To anticipate your needs and the needs of the company."

An auburn eyebrow lifted in the air inquisitively. "You study me?"

"Like a textbook," the admission rolled off my tone as if I were about to pronounce the R in _rojo_.

"You studied me like a textbook? Then what have you learned?"

"I've learned to be like a pigeon and shit on everything," my eyes widened in mortification. I was on a roll with the oral diarrhea today. "Sorry, Mr. Grey I meant that as a compliment."

"I understood the reference," a rose-gold head shook at me and that lopsided smirk was back in place while those slate gray eyes licked and sucked my face. He was standing impossibly too close to me and it wasn't until now I noticed. "Do you have a passport?"

"Yes, Mr. Grey."

"Good," he moved away and robbed all the oxygen in the room as he did so. "I've thought a lot about the proposition you made to me last we saw each other." Pause. "Log the proper leave request forms, Miss Bennett. You're coming with me to Copenhagen. We leave at the end of the month."

"I'll get right on it, Mr. Grey," was my automatic reply but then I halted. "You want me to go with you to Copenhagen?" I squeaked.

"It's what I said and if I said it I meant it. Is that going to be an issue?"

"No."

"Then do what needs to be done, Bonnie. I want you there and it's as simple as that."

"Thank you so much, sir," I blurted out and then turned to beat a hasty retreat so I could rush off to the bathroom to catch the holy ghost, but I was stopped by the sound of my boss' deep timbre.

"And Bonnie?"

I looked at him over my shoulder, hand poised on the knob. "Yes?"

"Bring those Christian Louboutin's you wore to the silent auction. You're going to need them."

Full, humiliating body blush. "Yes, sir."

* * *

It was to the gym where I escaped after work to hammer out my frustration. Two hours of Zumba and all I achieved was a Charlie horse in my hamstring, a sore back, and a crushing state of horniness. All that stupid pelvic thrusting. Shucking off my clothes, I turned the dials of the tub faucet and loaded that baby up with slightly scolding hot water, my bath salts, and a pinch of body milk to help moisturize my skin.

I fake cried my way into my closet on the hunt for my reliable flannel PJs and then thought you brainless woman, its summer! Break out the silk and satin, but then that would have been a waste of perfectly good lingerie because no one was around to appreciate it. So I settled with my old high school gym shorts—pretty proud I could still squeeze my hips into them, and a plain white T-shirt.

Slowly I made my way to the kitchen, my tumultuous stomach threatening to complain to the Better Business Bureau on how I didn't probably service it all day. Opening the refrigerator I was not blinded by the bulb. Quickly I did an assessment and saw I had enough food to create something edible by the time I was done soaking.

To tide me over, I grabbed a box of Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies and filled a glass with water from the tap. Like an old person I made my way into my bathroom, shut the door, dipped in the tub, and munched on cookies until I almost felt full.

Taking the water back to the head, I stared up at the window over my garden tub, and had a perfect view of the crescent moon.

"Bonnie?"

I groaned. I never should have given Rebekah a key to my house. "I'm in the bathroom."

And she burst right in. Seriously? Hadn't she heard of propriety? Yes, we were close like sisters, however, that did not _make _us sisters and that it was fine to interrupt someone while they were in the loo as she would say.

As usual she was dressed as if she were on her way to a party, and most of the time Rebekah was. She thrived here in Seattle Lake whereas in Mystic Falls no one wanted to give her the time of day, and she had to invite herself to shindigs. But not anymore. She was respected but above that liked.

I covered my bits with a wash cloth and well that left little to the imagination. "What are you doing here?"

She plopped down on the toilet and smiled. "I've missed you, love. We haven't really hung out since you returned from Virginia."

"Ah, yeah because I only got back day before yesterday."

She waved a hand in the air dismissing my words. "You went to the gym after work?"

"Yes. How can you tell?"

"You only eat cookies in the tub after you go to the gym. Kind of defeats the purpose, don't you think?"

"No, love, I don't think," I gave her a thorough perusal. "So what's the occasion? You're all dolled up."

"I'm about to hop a flight to Italy. Niklaus has summoned me."

And she said that with all the joy of a person who has just been incarcerated.

"You're speaking to him after a two-year hiatus?" I pondered.

"It's family business and that's the only reason why. I wanted to see you since your place is on the way to the airport. I don't know when I'll be back but the summit is coming up. I don't want you to go alone."

The summit. Right.

The summit was for the supernatural community to convene and share news of what was happening around the world and in our backyard. It was a way for us to stay connected, but also to stay a step ahead of our enemies which loosely translated into non-humans, non-gifted. The summit only happened quarterly, but I hated attending them nonetheless. I was always propositioned at one of those things to join some coven of witches or vampires, or pack of werewolves, or to be seduced by an incubus. It was tiring and exhaustive and Rebekah had been my backup since my divorce.

"Then I simply won't go this year. Problem solved. Can I get back to washing the funk off my body?"

Rebekah snorted. "You forget that it is your turn to open the ceremony. You can't get out of it unless you die."

_Great. _"I can't call in sick?" I whined.

"No. I can't believe I'm about to say this, but you may want to get Damon to escort you."

Rebekah looked decidedly worried that I would agree with her suggestion. I shook my head. "No, there's someone else I can ask to watch my back, but he could be my back up if my back up can't make it for whatever reason. I don't want to ask him honestly especially not after what I learned today at work."

Rebekah crossed her legs, made a steeple of her hands, and wrapped them around her knee. "What did you learn?"

"Damon is now an official board member of Christian Gray Industries."

A full, pouty, bottom lip plopped open in astonishment. "You're kidding?"

"No, and I wish I were."

"Damon Salvatore has a job? A real job? Why would anyone hire him?"

I tossed my hand up in the air—dubiously. "Hell if I know. I don't believe my boss was compelled. When Damon came in for his interview, when he left, he made a reference to cloned blood, but he didn't say anything else. You wouldn't happen to know what he meant, would you?"

Rebekah shook her head. "No, that doesn't ring any sort of bell. You won't be forced to see him everyday, will you?"

"Thankfully not, but that's not the best part. Damon has a position with the company working in Archives in addition to being on the board. I don't know his official title or what exactly he'll be doing since the formal announcement hasn't been made to the entire company. But he might be reporting to CGI headquarters every day until this merger or whatever my boss has going on is complete."

"I'm sorry, babe."

"Don't be. I don't work for the board. I just assist with meetings and I doubt I'd actually run into Damon anyways," I began to beam and told Rebekah that I would be traveling to Denmark with my boss at the end of the month.

"Well, it looks like someone is moving up in the corporate world. And what position do you think your boss will ask you to fill next?" she gave me a come hither look.

I splashed water at Rebekah.

"Well, love, I need to get a move on. My driver is waiting," Rebekah stood and then bent down to kiss my cheek. "Don't have too much fun in my absence."

"I won't. Call me."

"Will do. Ciao, bella."

"Ciao," I repeated and then was alone once more.

I remained in the tub until all ten fingers and toes were nice and prune-like. Toweling dry, dressing, I padded into the kitchen and decided it was too late to cook, but not too late to order a pizza.

By the time the pizza got there, my hunger was a non-issue. I was hungry, but more so hungry for answers. I picked up my cell, dialed Damon, and ate a slice of pizza anyways. No need for it to go to waste. I chased the pizza with _non-_diet soda.

"Hey," I answered around a mouthful of food. "Are you busy?"

"No, not doing anything major right now. What's up?"

Oh, you know what's up bubby and for once it wasn't my libido. "Can you meet me at Lakewood Park? I need to talk to you about something."

"I can just come to your place."

"The park is better. How soon can you meet me there?"

"I can be there in twenty minutes."

"Okay, see you in twenty minutes."

I dashed back into my bedroom where I threw on a bra under my plain white tee, and slipped into a baggy pair of jeans. The humidity was still kicking but mosquitoes dominated this time of night. I slipped on my Jordan's, grabbed my purse, and drove my Audi to the park.

Damon was already there leaning against a light post, one of many that lined the paved sidewalk. His clothes like his hair were black, and like his skin—tight.

He whistled when he saw me. I rolled my eyes in response but still ended up grinning, just a little. Shush, don't judge.

"I'm here at your service," he bowed and reached for my hand to kiss it.

I indulged Damon because he had information and I needed it, and he knew I wanted to know whatever it was he knew, and was going to play hard to get in terms of dispensing that info.

Silently we began walking through the park.

"So I'm guessing you wanted to talk to me to chew my ass out about becoming the newest board member at CGI."

I stared up at my ex-hubby. "Who approached who about becoming a board member?"

Damon smiled. "I simply applied when I saw the opening," he laid both hands on his chest.

"No, who approached _you _about getting on the board?"

"Still as quick as a rabbit. I couldn't get much pass you before and it seems you haven't lost that particular talent," he smirked.

I stopped walking and Damon did as well. "Please be serious with me. Something is going on. In addition to you being a board member you'll be working in the company archives. What are you looking for?"

"I can't tell you, Bonnie."

"Because you think I might tell my boss?"

"No, because I've been…I had to agree not to say anything."

I didn't like this at all. Back door deals where I didn't know the players other than the one standing in front of me. "Are you in trouble, Damon and you have to work off some kind of debt?"

He began walking again, this time taking my arm, and basically holding me tight against him. "Even a wall-less room has ears, Bonnie. I can't tell you anything and the less you know the better off you'll be. I'm not in trouble. For once," he snorted. "But I need you to promise that if you go snooping because I know you will, whatever you find out, _only _talk to me about it. And I mean that with all seriousness. I'm not there to mess up your career or to interfere. You do your job and I'll do mine."

"Is it bad, Damon? Just tell me that much so I won't worry."

He penetrated me with those luminously azure eyes. "You still worry about me, baby. _Non dovete preoccuparvi. Lo so quello che sto facendo." _(You don't have to worry. I know what I'm doing.")

I heard that enough to translate what he just said. "And that's the part of you, Damon that scared me when you would say that shit. You'd run off and return bloody and near death. 'I know what I'm doing.' 'I have everything under control.' _Wrong. _Saving your butt became a full time job."

"Well, I've gotten better at looking out for my own ass. You didn't leave me much choice when you left."

"Okay," I pulled my arm away. "We're not going down that road."

"All right so let's go down another that leads to my place or yours. I can smell the pizza on your breath. You know you shouldn't eat that junk after six o'clock."

I stared at him drolly. "Anything else, dad?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it. The summit is coming up. I can be your escort."

"That's okay. Won't be necessary. You're going?"

"Yep. I wouldn't miss you opening the ceremony. I need to be there."

"You don't need to be there."

Damon cupped my cheek and then traced my bottom lip with his finger. "That's so cute. You pretending that I'm going to do what you say."

"Ass."

"You used to love touching it."

"Uh-hun. Moving on to something else. Now back to this sinister plan you have going that you won't give me any details on."

Damon reared his head back and laughed gaily. "Nice try but I'm not that easy. Well…not anymore," he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Is this your roundabout way of trying to tell me something?"

"Bonnie," Damon pulled me off the path and then braced my back up against a tree. "Outside of Stefan—on a good day, you are the most important thing to me. I know this might be hard for you to believe, but I stopped wanting other women the day…the day I fell in love with you, and maybe even before then. _Cara, _you know me better than anyone. Look into my eyes and tell me I'm lying."

Looking into Damon's eyes was like being knocked unconscious by Spock. Nope. Un-hun. Ain't finna happen.

It happened.

His cold hands molded to the shape of my face, thumbs brushed ever so gently over my cheeks. "_La mia Venere dolce." _Damon breathed deeply, his jaw clenched, and then he stepped away from me.

I blinked as I came out of a smoky haze, like leaving a building that caught fire and I could take in a lungful of oxygen. Why were men doing this to me today? Tampering with my air supply.

"Damon?"

He placed his back to me and I grew considerably worried. I didn't know what was going on with him. Luckily he wasn't a werewolf and wasn't coming under the influence of the full moon though the moon was far from being full, but something else was happening to my ex-husband.

"I tell myself all the time that I'm going to behave with you and I can't. It's too fucking hard. Especially when you smell and look so fucking delicious."

I stared down at my less than dressy ensemble and inwardly shrugged, but yeah I did smell awesome, couldn't deny that. It wasn't always easy for me either occupying the same space as Damon knowing our history and the way we always responded to one another. Sometimes it was like sensory overload and it couldn't be helped or tamed. How others dealt with us was nothing less than a miracle, because as I looked around the park I noticed heat waves rising from the pavement. Oops, I had to get that under control and fast before I ignited something.

Touching him wouldn't help matters so I reframed. "Maybe this is a sign," I said.

"A sign of what? That I'm cursed?"

"No, maybe it's a sign that you shouldn't take the position with the board. Nothing is official yet."

"I already signed the contract," Damon quickly interrupted.

I sighed. So much for that. Slowly he faced me again.

"Can you handle it?" he asked.

"Yeah, I know how to control myself. I was always better at it than you."

"Don't brag," Damon shifted his weight on his feet and popped out his right hip a little. "We have another issue we need to talk about."

"What?"

"My brother's wedding. I'm his best man, you're Caroline's maid-of-honor, and Elena," Damon rolled his eyes, "is a bridesmaid. Stefan said you agreed to talk to Elena before the wedding."

I walked over to a nearby bench and sat down. Damon was next to me in an instant purposely touching his leg to mine.

"I said it but I don't know if I can do it. I haven't seen or spoken to her in years, and by now I should be over what she did," I played with my fingers.

"I'm not. She tried to destroy our marriage, Bonnie. She hurt you and that's unacceptable. I could care less about her betraying me, but what she did to you trying to make it seem like I would cheat on you with someone you considered a sister, family…" he didn't finish his thought because he didn't have to.

You could do whatever you wanted to Damon and he would get even, but if you came after me, you pretty much signed your life away. Elena had gotten away with a lot because Damon held a soft spot for her in his heart, but the minute she chose to fight dirty, all bets were off, and he wanted her dead for betraying and hurting me. I don't know how I talked him out of going after her, but I did.

I bit down on my bottom lip and nodded. "That happened so long ago, and she apologized, but I still don't trust her. Stefan's right, though. If I continue to hold on to my anger about the situation it'll only rule and have power over me and I don't want that. Caroline's heart is too damn big for her own good sometimes, and I understand why she wants Elena to be a part of the wedding party…we've been friends since we were kids. We're not those kids anymore." My eyes found Damon and noticed he was staring at the grass in deep thought. "Do you think you can handle seeing Elena?"

He shrugged and threw his arm over the back of the bench, his fingers caressing the skin of my arm. "I promise to not kill her. But if she dies because I ripped her heart out of her chest, totally not my fault," he grinned mischievously.

I snorted then and sat back against the bench. Automatically my head found its resting place on Damon's shoulder. I thought to move it, but I didn't. With food digesting in my belly, and the effects of taking a nice warm bath, and burning myself out while exercising I was getting sleepy.

"At the end of the day," Damon's voice interrupted my pending slumber, "it matters and then it doesn't matter. Elena doesn't really have anyone. Jeremy's dead. Stefan has moved on, you and I are here. I feel bad for her because she's so pathetic now."

"I do, as well," I said and then glared up at him after I realized what he said. "Damon," my tone was reproachful.

"I only said what you were thinking," he winked. "Your heart is big just like Caroline's. It had to be in order to love someone like me."

"Are you fishing for a compliment?"

"No."

I didn't buy that but didn't comment further on the subject. It was nice to be able to talk to Damon like this. He could be deep and insightful when he applied himself, but I was positive it wouldn't take long before he said something derogatory or gross and ruin everything.

"You can use me as your bed if you want to sleep," he suggested.

"I'm fine where I am."

"Then you won't mind if I squeezed you just a little tighter," he dropped his arm to my waist and pulled me against him almost to the point where I couldn't breathe.

Thanks so much, my ribs really appreciate that.

Just then an older interracial couple waddled on by and took a pause to stare at us. I straightened up a bit but Damon refused to lessen the pressure of his hold.

"Evenin'," he greeted them with a lazy wave.

"Aww, don't they look just like us, Henry, when we were that young?" the old woman spoke loud enough for people in the next county to hear.

Henry fixed his bifocals on his face before replying. "Nah, I was way more handsome than that critter, and you weren't nearly as pretty as that little gal," and then he wheezed a laugh prior to pulling his wife along.

"Asshole," the old lady muttered.

"You still love me anyways."

"How long have you two been married?" Damon queried.

The old man looked up towards the sky probably trying to count back through the years, but the woman was much sharper, "It'll be forty-two years this November."

"Gotdamn I've been married to you for that long?" Henry burst out in shock.

Damon and I chuckled.

His wife looked severely displeased, but ignored him. "Yes, and if you weren't so damn broke I would have divorced you and robbed you of the ten bucks you have to your name."

"I knew you were only with me because of Social Security."

Damon and I looked at each other wondering if we started something.

"No, I married you for your cooking," the woman muttered haughtily.

The man wheezed a laugh and kissed his wife adoringly on the cheek. "And I married you for reasons I shouldn't say in front of young people."

Oh, gawd please make this conversation stop right now.

The woman let out a girlish little laugh, blushed, and then composed herself. She stared at us apologetically. "Don't mind him. He has a one track mind. Are you two married?"

"Stay out of people's business, Frieda. We have places to go. I want to get a good seat at the Bingo lounge," Henry looked at us, his huge eyes blinking. "You kids have a good night," and proceeded to pull his wife along.

I laughed. "You, too, sir." Then my smile dimmed once I realized that that would never be me and Damon. "I need to get home."

"I'll walk you back to your car," Damon offered and I didn't object.

Like the gentleman he surprisingly was, Damon opened up my car door, but I hesitated before climbing behind the wheel.

He stared at me expectantly and there was a lot I wanted to say to him, I just didn't know where to start or what difference it would make.

My mouth opened and then I said, "Thank you."

"Call me and let me know you made it home all right or I'll be forced to follow you."

"You were probably going to do it anyways."

Damon shrugged a brawny shoulder and didn't look contrite in the least. "Probably. Be safe."

I nodded and folded into the bucket seat. Damon shut the door, backed away, and watched me drive off.

Immortality. It wasn't for everyone especially if you wanted to grow old with someone. And that's what I wanted.

Chapter end.

**A/N: So a lot will be going on in Bonnie's life. Damon is now a part of the board, she'll be flying off to Copenhagen with Christian so who knows what those two will get into, and of course what's this summit that Bonnie has to open up? Answers are soon to come. Thank you guys for reading! Until next time, love you. Oh, and what Damon said to Bonnie was "My sweet Venus". **


	9. Encounters

**A/N: Hi everyone. I know it's taken a little longer than usual for an update but I'm back. Some wanted a Bamon flashback so the chapter begins with that. Hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for the reviews that have literally poured in for this story! Keep em coming.**

Disclaimer: These characters (Christian Grey belongs to EL James, OC's are mine) are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Let me tell you a story…**

No justice, no peace gotdamnit as my fingers flew over the keys of my phone before I jammed it in my pocket. This was some bullshit. Serving detention at the school_ dance_ was a freaking travesty. Travesty, I tell you! And even without this sentence hanging over my head my date, the emotionless toad, had the audacity to back out at the last second with the excuse he had a stomach virus and couldn't keep anything down, the lame ass. That was about as original as saying he had to wash his hair. Grrr…..

I told myself to inhale deeply, exhale, and whoosaw, and that these tragic turn of events would not land me as the butt of jokes come Monday morning. Oh, what was I saying? High school was overpopulated with cruel villains, and snaggletooth hags who slithered around on their bellies looking for that pound of flesh to humiliate with glee. I was okay, I repeatedly told myself because I was a cheerleader which granted me _some _power, and my best friends wouldn't leave me hanging. Yes, they would be in attendance with their showpieces draped on their arms and dressed in the best party regalia a small town like Mystic Falls had to offer, while me…

I would be attired in a black polo shirt and dreaded tan khaki pants with my hair pulled back in a respectable ponytail. I had no say in what I could wear. Can you believe that crap?

How did this particularly humiliating fate land on my shoulders? Glad you asked. It might have had something to do with the fact that I preferred to learn Geography, English, and Trig by osmosis rather than being awake, alert, and taking notes during class. I was going through an acute case of insomnia brought on by dreams—well nightmares I should say, so my school attendance and preparedness was suffering.

Ms. Crabtree, the loneliest woman to ever exist and who got off on making others miserable right along with her bitter ass, sauntered over to me with a box containing cups.

"Sort these out, and the second you're done, make sure there's plenty of toilet paper in the girls bathroom," she ordered in her phlegm-filled voice.

I grimaced on the inside and kept an impassive face on the outside. I had been fully prepared to retort wasn't it the janitorial staff's job to restock the bathroom, but I had been usurped of my Wonder Woman lasso and my invisible plane had been repossessed, so I quite literally had no authority around these parts.

Resigned to my fate, I slowly and methodically sorted Styrofoam cups on all the refreshment tables. There had been six total. Three on each side of the gymnasium. The nerds in audio were still working on hooking up the speakers while the DJ blew the dust of the vinyl records he used at the last dance.

Slowly, couples and individuals began to trickle in and gathered in groups on the confetti covered basketball court, or on the bleachers. I ducked my head, kept my eyes to the ground so I wouldn't be noticed. The only people who knew I would be working the dance were my best friends, and though they promised not to abandon me too much, I knew they would keep my company for all of five minutes before they dragged their dates out on the floor and live it up.

Since it was unavoidable, I loaded my arms with enough toilet paper to tee-pee someone's house, and filled the stalls. The second that was done I decided to loiter for a second, and study my reflection.

I was seventeen, a witch, the granddaughter of a witch, and there was something weird going on in my hometown. I didn't know what it was but I had a feeling that Elena's new boy toy and his brother were at the crux of everything. I thought back to a few nights ago…

I had been strolling through the woods on the night of a full moon, which in hindsight I know was not very smart, but Grams had been teaching me about our heritage, and said that a witch could channel the energy of a hot spot during a full moon. In reality, I had no idea what that meant, but in theory it sounded awfully cool. So I decided to test my burgeoning skills and see if I might be able to detect anything supernatural or unusual. I had a book bag full of candles, a little book I checked out from the library on Celtic myths and legends, and one of Grams spell books I later learned was called a grimoire. I had my flashlight and cell phone and felt pretty secure that I would be fine.

Besides, nothing bad ever happened in Mystic Falls.

So I had sat out on foot the minute I arrived at the park and disappeared into the woods. I was unsure of how far into the woods I had gotten when I heard the sound of two people grunting. I paused, listened, and quickly determined that someone was getting the snot beaten out of them. I chucked it up to being a couple of meatheads from the football team, or maybe two drunken men who came to blows over a dispute.

What I found was none of the above. I saw a body fly into a tree at a velocity that should have spelled certain death, but the person literally bounced back on his feet, charged, and then there was just a blur of movement my poor little eyes couldn't keep up with.

By the time the shapes stopped moving and I was able to get a more accurate picture of what was taking place, one man stood with his foot on the other man's neck, apparently adding pressure.

"She is mine," the aggressor said but then he stopped, sniffed like an animal, and his eyes zeroed in on me.

I didn't ask any questions. My plans for channeling a hot spot forgotten, I took off for my car.

I didn't get very far because I crashed into what felt like a brick wall and landed on my ass.

"Please…don't hurt me," I said feebly and curled and tucked my body into the fetal position and covered my head. I just knew I was going to die.

"Naughty girl…you shouldn't play out in the woods at night. It's dangerous."

I froze because I recognized the voice. I immediately dropped my hands and found myself glaring into a pair of appallingly blue eyes. But that wasn't nearly as disconcerting as the fact he had blocked my path faster than he _should_ have.

He smiled charmingly at me, and his lips stretched until teeth were exposed. It was like looking into a drawer full of knives. My heart burst through my sternum like a horse at the Kentucky Derby.

"Get away from her, Damon!"

I recognized that voice, too. _Stefan. _

I couldn't comprehend what I had stumbled on. The way they moved, the fact Damon's teeth looked _real _sharp, the fact I was alone with both of them, and I was scared out of my freaking mind but I couldn't get my legs to cooperate and push myself to stand.

Stefan had reached out his hand to help me to my feet, and in a daze I accepted because I knew Stefan from school and he was seeing Elena. His brother on the other hand unnerved me.

"Bonnie, are you okay?" Stefan asked.

I was about to respond, but the second I touched Stefan's palm I felt something I never felt before and immediately recoiled from his touch. His hands had been like ice, but beyond that there had been a hollow feeling I could only imagine what death would feel like. I didn't know what that meant, and perhaps it meant nothing, but in that very second I didn't want to be around either Salvatore. I was going to scream.

Damon must have sensed it because he placed his index finger up against my lips, boring into my eyes with those glowing orbs of his. The same feeling I felt when I touched Stefan, tripled inside with Damon's finger pressed against my mouth. What the fuck?

"Don't scream. You didn't see anything tonight. You were walking, got lost, and we helped you find your way back. " He paused as if he were waiting for me to refute what he said. It didn't escape me that I _saw _his pupils dilate.

Numbly I nodded. For self-preservation reasons I knew it would serve in my best interest to play along.

"Go home," he ordered in the coldest voice I had ever heard. I shivered and then quickly darted around him, got in my car, and left. But my mind was buzzing with questions. Something was _off _about them. Something…I wanted to say inhuman, I mean, outside of their absurd good looks, but they were…_something. _Their speed, their strength…unexplainable.

Since then I kept a wide berth between both Salvatore's, but I knew they would be here tonight. Stefan with Elena and Damon with Caroline.

Leaving the safe confines of the bathroom, I returned to the gym to find that even more people had arrived. I sighed heavily and went over to my assigned table where my back-up, another prisoner of Ms. Crabtree, stood sullen with her arms folded over her chest, attitude written all of her face. I feel you, my sister, I feel you.

Music started blasting from the speakers which prompted several people to start dancing around the gym. I craned my neck looking for familiar faces and spotted Matt talking with Tyler and several other football players. I wanted to ask Matt how his sister Vicky was doing. A week ago she had been attacked by an animal out at the old cemetery. Vicky had lost a lot of blood. She stayed in the hospital for two days, but had to return because she, according to Matt, had a slight psychotic episode.

Vicky and I had never been particularly close. She was one of those people you grew up with but never became solid friends with because she had a wild streak your parents, in my case grandmother, thought would be a bad influence on you. Plus Vicky had a reputation for being more accessible than a revolving door, so there you go.

Not that I held that against her.

About an hour into the dance, my best friends arrived with their dates. I couldn't explain why my heart began to pound, but it tripled in beat the second Damon Salvatore scanned the crowd and his eyes landed on me like an arrow striking the ass of a deer. He grinned and there was something about that grin that translated into trouble in my rattled brain. He was with my best friend so he should have had his attention on her. Caroline looked beyond excited and giddy because admittedly, and I hated to say this, Damon was _the_ best looking guy she had ever dated. I didn't know what the deal was between them because Caroline was being uncharacteristically hush-hush about the nature of their relationship. The girl couldn't hold water or trade secrets so whenever I tried to dig for some dirt on Damon, she'd clam up, and say like a well-trained parrot:

"Damon is very private and doesn't want me to talk about him to my friends."

Elena looked just as starry-eyed as Caroline as she clutched Stefan's arm and pulled him inside the gym. Dude looked like he was being led to his execution. The thought made me chuckle until I remembered that feeling which ran through me the minute our skin made contact.

I hadn't worked up the courage to tell Elena what I felt because in all honesty I didn't know how to explain it. Grams was away and wouldn't be returning for another week so until she got back, I was on my own in trying to figure out if something was wrong with Stefan and Damon, or if I was looking for something that wasn't there.

To my horror, Caroline spotted me and dragged the trio behind her over to my table. Ugh.

"Bonnie!" she said it loud enough for everyone in the immediate vicinity to stop their activity and look at me as if I were about to star ringing up groceries or something.

"Hey," I glowered at her slightly and avoided making eye contact with the two guys who hovered in the background. My skin started crawling, pebbling, and slightly quaking because I _felt _Damon's eyes on me like he was touching me.

"I'm so sorry you have to serve detention at the dance," Elena lamented. "This whole thing blows."

"You totally look cute though," Caroline said as if that would make the entire situation better.

I offered up a tiny smile and kept my eyes focused on my two friends. "Would you like some punch?" I was so being sarcastic.

"I wouldn't mind a cup," Damon announced.

"Make it yourself," I retorted rudely.

"Bonnie," Caroline admonished, "you can be nicer than that."

I didn't say anything.

Elena and Damon helped themselves to some punch whereas Caroline primped, mainly adjusting the scarf around her neck. Lately she had been wearing a lot of scarves. Stefan studied his shoes.

_Just leave already_, I was shouting in my mind, and as if they heard they moved along and started making rounds around the gym.

My back, feet, legs, and neck were screaming by hour three. My sentence should have ended and I should have been granted a dispensation to get the hell out of here, but Ms. Crabtree was determined to squeeze out every single drop of humiliation this night could garner.

In the grand scheme of things it wasn't terrible. I didn't have to turn down dance invitations from guys that knew better. I didn't have to make conversation with the Salvatore's.

However, the eldest one wouldn't exactly stay out of my line of vision. I told myself I only kept my eyes on him to make sure he behaved himself. I questioned plenty of times why he was dating a high school girl when clearly Damon was college aged though he wasn't enrolled in college, that I knew of, and dude didn't have a job. I assumed the Salvatore's were loaded and he was probably living off a trust fund, but to have not nary a goal in life other than to crash a high school dance, and make eyes at his brother's girlfriend when said brother wasn't looking…I didn't like or trust Damon Salvatore.

Thankfully the dance ended without much fan fair. I knew everyone would be heading over to The Grill because it was tradition so that meant I would be going home to rest my tired, aching feet.

Caroline and Elena tried to coax me to join them, but I declined, said I had to help clean the gym, and then finally I would get my release papers.

By the time my night was officially over, and I was walking to my car I got the sense that I was being followed. With what happened to Vicky, my encounter with the Salvatore's in the woods that neither one had mentioned nor coughed up any kind of explanation, I was feeling like that black person in scary movies who dies first.

I looked over my shoulder and didn't see anyone, but a cloud of fog covered the pavement and I found that extremely odd. Did someone leave a smoke machine on?

Ignoring it, I unlocked my car, threw my purse into the passenger seat and was prepared to climb behind the wheel when I heard someone whistle.

I jerked up and looked back towards the gym and I saw someone leaning up against the brick wall, arms folded over his chest. His face was hidden in shadows, but there was no way in the world I was going to ask those dumb questions, "Who are you?" "What do you want?"

Deciding it was best to move alone since I was so clearly being watched, I got behind the wheel and tried to slam my door shut when someone jerked it open. I was pulled out of the car, and I started screaming like a banshee, as my arms and legs flailed around and I tried to hit my attacker.

"Stay still," he grunted.

Like hell, I wanted to say and brought my knee up to crush his groin, but he must have sensed what I was about to do because I was abruptly spun around facing away from him, and then thrust into my car. My head was wrenched painfully backwards and to the side, and I felt that hollow, death-like feeling again that turned my blood cold. The man's teeth were aiming for my neck.

"HELP ME! SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE!"

"You don't have to scream, naughty girl."

I stiffened and the thing that was holding me seemingly disappeared and then I heard what could only be described as a box of rocks hitting concrete.

My erratic breathing was the only sound around for miles. I didn't want to turn around to witness what just happened, but my feet grew a mind of their own, and I was turning around.

Damon was standing there looking smug, and then as my eyes lowered I realized there was a body crumbled on the ground.

"Ohmygod! You killed him!"

"Technically he's already dead, but he will be _permanently_ dead soon enough."

I didn't understand what was going on. Damon shouldn't be here. He should be with Caroline at the Grill. They had left at least forty-five minutes ago. I could only go off the way the man's neck was twisted at an odd angle and come to the conclusion that Damon with his bare hands snapped my attacker's neck. How did he know I was in trouble? Why was he here?

I took a step back only to ram into my car. Was I an accessory to murder now?

"Aren't you going to say thank you?" Damon asked tersely.

I merely blinked at him. "I don't…"

Damon kicked the man's body away and approached me, and since I had nowhere to go I was trapped between him and my car. He was doing that weird thing with his eyes, and I shook my head.

"I don't know what you're doing but you need to stop."

Surprise flitted across his face and then he was smirking at some kind of inside joke. "You remember that night, don't you?"

This would be the perfect time to play dumb, but I wanted answers and he was going to give them to me.

"Yes, I do." Pause. "What are you?"

"I know what you are…a liability," he grumbled and effectively ignored my question, "but also exactly what I need. Stay out of trouble, naughty girl."

I watched as Damon easily tossed the man over his shoulder and then he walked away. I was stunned by what just happened, and by Damon's cryptic words. What had I just stumbled into?

If you're wondering that's the night I fell in love with Damon Salvatore, ha-ha think again. My name ain't Bella and last I checked I wasn't a special snowflake who could disregard a person's criminal past, overlook the fact my wannabe Romeo was a cold-blooded killer and love him anyways. No, after that night I trusted Damon even less, and watched him even more.

My questions: What are you? What do you want from me? went ignored every time I asked, and he had a knack for showing up. Not always when I was in trouble, but popping up at high school events, at The Grill, calling me naughty girl, and looking at me like he knew something about me. Inevitably he was always there when I needed him even if I never wanted to admit I needed him.

There had been the time I was out on a date and the guy got a little too frisky. Damon showed up and sent the guy packing…to a hospital, but later it was revealed the guy had assaulted two other girls before making his move on me.

However it was a culmination of unavoidable events that his secret was exposed. That he and Stefan were vampires. I didn't take the news so well. I actually…um…accidentally set him on fire. When he survived without a single burn that was pretty much all the proof I needed that Damon was what he said he was. And he finally confessed he knew I was witch and wanted me and my grandmother to open up a tomb to free his girlfriend slash maker Katherine Pierce.

By that time I was so aggravated and frightened by Damon I would have agreed to launch a nuclear missile to get him to leave Mystic Falls because wherever he went, death followed. But he never hurt me.

I don't know how many people Damon killed back then. The man's neck he snapped had been a vampire who may have been responsible for what happened to Vicky, and a few other people. Damon certainly hadn't gone out of his way to admit to anything. He only gave me scraps to go on back then because he had been hiding something. But the second the cards were laid out on the table, he finally broke down and told me why he hovered around was because he knew I was Emily Bennett's descendent and he was counting on me and Grams to be able to break the spell Emily cast to entomb twenty-seven vampires underneath Fell's Church.

I will say I had been a little conflicted because Damon had agreed to leave town the minute he got Katherine out. As much as I should have been kicking up my heels at his impending departure, I guess I had kind of gotten use to him being around and giving me grief. Damon had become that bully who pulled your hair, said you smelled, and called you names as his roundabout way of saying he liked you.

However, in a wicked twisted of events, Katherine had never been in the tomb and Damon came to the heart wrenching conclusion she had been out and alive all this time and not _once _tried to contact to him, reach out to him, come for him knowing that he loved her.

The night I fell in love with him was the night I watched his heart break as he sat in front of the fireplace at the boardinghouse after Grams and I opened the tomb and revealed the truth to Damon. But I wouldn't know it was love until months later.

I had been watching Damon since I was seventeen, and I was still watching him today. Mainly because he was sitting at the boardroom table at CGI wearing the hell out of his Dolce & Gabana business suit. That suit had been a Christmas gift from me two years ago. My boss was speaking and like a good little worker bee I should have been paying attention, but my attention was being thwarted by my ex who had yet to make any kind of eye contact with me.

"…with this new board in place Christian Gray Industries is about to embark on something that will revolutionize the world, and may in fact lead the next step in human potential and evolution…"

Now that definitely got my attention. Human potential? Evolution? Were we about to "embark" on some Jurassic Park shit?

This all reminded me of the fact I didn't Google Dr. Henry Gao like I had told myself that I would, and I would as soon as this introductory meeting was over and I could get back to my desk. Unfortunately that would take a minute since I would have to stay behind with Dakota in the off chance Mr. Grey needed something.

And speaking of my boss, things between us had, I guess you could say cooled off. He hadn't felt me up with his eyes since he told me he wanted me to accompany him to Copenhagen earlier this week, and the right way to feel about that was relief but I felt kind of slighted. Then I overheard Cheryl and Dakota whispering that our boss may have reunited with a prior flame. Some chick named Anastasia, Annabelle? Something. And if he did…that was fast.

"…so stand with me and welcome our newest board members to Christian Gray Industries," Mr. Grey's booming voice captured my attention and I rose out of the leather swivel chair and began clapping my hands. "Let's celebrate," Mr. Grey concluded.

I began passing around champagne flutes, while Danny Desai, the Chief Information Officer popped corks and filled the glasses with bubbly. I liked Mr. Desai because he never let his title and position with the company stop him from being "one of the guys", or I should say from being one of the laymen. He was personable and had a sarcastic wit only true cynics could appreciate.

Armed with two glasses of Dom Perignon, I approached Mr. Grey and Damon. The two of them were engaged in small-talk from what I could tell, and you know me I was itching to find out what they were discussing.

Two pairs of eyes fixed on me and I kept my smile in place though my knees were turning into jelly. So much male testosterone in one room shouldn't be allowed. I handed one glass over to my boss first and the other I gave to Damon. He made sure his fingers overlapped mine as he intercepted the glass.

"Thank you, Miss Bennett," Damon spoke officiously.

"You're welcome," I turned my attention to Mr. Grey who had already upturned his glass to his mouth. "Do you need anything else, Mr. Grey?"

"Yes, how are the preparations coming along for the Dinner on the Roof event next week? The invoices are pouring in and I think its giving the Accounts Payable department heart palpitations."

I don't understand why. It wasn't like it was _their_ money to begin with. I kept my smile in place while I answered. "Trying to feed close to two hundred people a gourmet meal wouldn't necessarily entail being financially frugal, Mr. Grey. But I've worked out a couple of deals that have slashed prices significantly especially when it comes to entertainment. Catering is the make or break of any event so I couldn't cut any corners around that."

"Always resourceful and knowledgeable. You know I admire that…in you, Miss Bennett," Mr. Grey complimented. "You're not having any champagne? Here take my glass."

"Ah…" I stammered as Mr. Grey placed his glass into my hand. Out the corner of my eyes I saw Damon pull his lips back from his teeth.

"Yes, Missus Sal—I mean Miss Bennett handled all of our household finances when we were married," Damon interjected and I wanted to frown at him and his non-Freudian slip.

Maybe it was me but it seemed like as soon as he made that telling statement the noise level in the conference room lowered considerably.

Mr. Grey stared at my husband before smiling but I could tell it took some effort. "Right, I haven't forgotten that you two were husband and wife. Now that you're both here, and I've already discussed this with Bonnie," ooh, we're back to Bonnie. Progress. "I'm hoping there won't be any problems moving forward?"

Damon shook his head and shrugged. "Bonnie and I have been nothing but cordial to one another. We get along great in fact, better than most divorcees. I still consider her a _very _close friend."

I watched as Mr. Grey's eyes narrowed. Clearly he was astute enough to figure out the meaning behind Damon emphatically stressing the word—very.

Okay, the temperature was rising. Was I the only one hot and uncomfortable?

"I realize I'm here to do a specific job and that's not to interfere with Bonnie's work in anyway," Damon remarked amiably. "So you won't have any issues with me."

Mr. Grey measured Damon for a second before curtly nodding his head. "So long as all of us can be adult about this, this new partnership may in fact turn beneficial across the board. That's my goal after all."

And it was that goal I had no idea what it entailed and how Damon fit into this Rubik cube.

"I hope you won't take it personally if I_ steal_ Miss Bennett away from time to time. I'd like her to be at my side—often."

All right that made me choke and I hadn't even swallowed a sip of champagne. The glass in Damon's hand cracked but didn't shatter into pieces.

Christian continued speaking as if he didn't hear that and as if nothing were remiss. "I believe she's reached a plateau in her current responsibilities, and the more she proves herself the more I feel it necessary to challenge her," he turned those gray eyes on me which shrunk me in height by a good two feet but also lifted me up. "You are up for the challenge, Miss Bennett?"

I nodded and then remembered to use my words like a big girl. "Yes, Mr. Grey. Like I said before, in whatever capacity you need me I'm here. Ready. Willing. And able."

A slow smile, wicked enough to inspire a thousand wet dreams, spread across his face then. "Just what I like to hear."

Damon was probably blowing several gaskets right about now so I kept my eyes off him for that very reason. The tension radiating from his body was nearly suffocating, and I decided it would be best to back away and continue on with my administrative duties, and disengage from this pissing contest.

Luckily, two senior executives sauntered up to exchange pleasantries with Mr. Grey and to introduce themselves to Damon. I took that as my cue to leave. When I turned around to head back to my hideout corner The Blondes were glaring at me. Perhaps they had been timing how long I spoke with Damon and Mr. Grey. Mentally I rolled my eyes in exasperation as I approached them.

Cheryl pounced first. "You know it's unprofessional to take up so much of Mr. Grey's time when the board and senior executives are assembled."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Prescott," I spat contemptuously although I muttered that quietly, "but Mr. Grey asked me a question and I couldn't be rude and not answer. Wouldn't that have been construed as unprofessional?"

Cheryl pressed her lips into a thin line. "Just…try to avoid that in the future. He has a tight and commanding schedule as is and doesn't have time for…for foolishness of any kind."

Was this woman serious? From the hard look in her eyes and the way she held her shoulders back and rigid like she was leading a Roman army I would daresay she was serious. So it was foolish to answer one's boss' question? No, her ass was jealous and judging by the equally pinched look on Dakota's face she was too. Deal with it, hussies. Damon and Mr. Grey was all about the swirl.

Shaking my head at my own thoughts, I went about the rest of my duties, and then Mr. Grey dismissed all three of us assistants from his sight. Cheryl and Dakota engaged in conversation excluding me naturally, which was just fine and dandy with me. On the inside I was cackling like a witch (yeah I know) with a wart on the end of my nose the size of a skittle because their heads would explode the minute they found out I would be leaving the country with our boss to engage in even more "foolishness".

Once I made it back to my desk, I sighed heavily because there was a stack of binders nearly three feet in height that had to be reshelved in the law library. I grabbed a rolling cart, stacked the binders after checking to make sure I pulled the right documents out of them, and then headed over to the bank of elevators.

I traveled down to the eighteenth floor where the lawyers of CGI hibernated. I nodded towards the receptionist and was automatically freaked out by how quiet it was. For lawyers you'd imagine the place would be buzzing with activity, of phones ringing off the hook, and people screaming at other people, but it was as quiet as a graveyard. How the receptionist didn't lose her mind with all this silence as a true testament of her fortitude because I wouldn't have made it a solid eight hours without jumping up and screaming "Wake up!" like Lawrence Fishburn did at the end of _School Daze_.

I left the rolling cart of binders with the filing clerk, and then debated if I wanted to return to my desk or not. I checked the time on my watch and estimated I had about fifteen minutes of free time left before Mr. Grey returned to his office. I could always go outside and walk in the botanical garden, but it was much too hot for that. No, it was best to return to my desk and wait for my next set of orders while pretending to work.

Of course by the time I made it back to the 22nd floor, Damon would be there sitting on the edge of Cheryl's desk. Dakota was missing but then she barreled past me, nearly knocking me down as she rushed over with a cup of coffee. She handed the mug to Damon who thanked her _in Italian _and I swore that chick levitated.

My face turned to stone of its own volition. Damon only spoke Italian to _me_, but then I shook my head of that jealous and petty thought and sauntered past him making sure he caught a whiff of my perfume as I sat down in my seat, not saying a word to him.

It may have been rude and uncalled for but he had no business being here. According to Mr. Grey's calendar he had an off-site meeting and would be out of the office until tomorrow. Dakota was traveling with him, and I saw her throwing things in her bag, preparing to leave. So Damon's presence here wasn't needed.

Cheryl and Damon laughed and I flicked my eyes briefly in their direction. They were whispering to one another and I didn't care to know what was being said between them.

The ding of the elevator caught everyone's attention. Mr. Grey had returned and didn't appear to be the least bit surprised to see that Damon was still hanging around like smog.

"Miss Bennett could you step into my office for a moment? Dakota you may head to the car. Taylor is waiting."

"Yes, sir," Dakota and I spoke in harmony. Ugh, I hated when we did that.

"Mr. Salvatore," was all Christian said before pushing his office door open.

I glanced at Damon who waved me to walk in front of him.

"Ummm," I heard him say and well I may have smiled a tiny bit.

The both of us entered his office and I was burning with curiosity on what Christian was about to say next.

"Since Mr. Salvatore has an official position, and you want more responsibility, I thought you could help transition Mr. Salvatore to the company, Bonnie."

"What?" I blurted out impertinently. "You want me to be his assistant?"

"Only until one who meets his requirements is hired. Several candidates have been interviewed, but until a decision has been made, Mr. Salvatore needs someone who is already familiar with the procedures and practices of the company, and can answer any questions he may have."

Surely they could bring on a temp for that. How was I supposed to assist Damon _and _Mr. Grey? I didn't have a doppelganger or a twin. There was only one of me. Not only that, I'm supposed to be getting my shit together to go to Denmark!

"It will only be for approximately two weeks, Miss Bennett beginning in August," Mr. Grey probably heard me whining in my head. His tone suggested I get over it and deal with it.

But then wasn't there a clause in the company handbook that prohibited spouses from working in the same department? Oh sure Damon and I were divorced but shouldn't we still fall under that umbrella, technically speaking?

"I think this is good idea," Damon reaffirmed. "We already know each other and you've always anticipated my needs," he had to grin, "not to mention I feel comfortable with you, Miss Bennett."

Oh so this was all about his comfort level and not mine? Slowly I penetrated him with a glare.

Once again I felt like I should be frank about something, but Mr. Grey had retrieved his iPad and cell and began heading towards the door. It was done. There was no negotiating and I was right back in high school serving detention at a dance.

"You may show him to his office on the seventeenth floor. Pamela is expecting you. I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Bennett."

"Have a good evening, Mr. Grey," I mumbled petulantly.

The second he was gone, Damon turned to me, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I jerked away from him.

"Did you compel him?" I immediately accused.

"No, I didn't."

"Don't lie to me, Damon."

"I'm glad you still think I'm up to no good, Bonnie. It warms my cold, dead heart considerably. This was all his fucking idea."

I paused for a moment—thinking. "Does he know what you are?"

My ex-husband approached me leaving very little breathing room between us. "I think the better question to ask is: does he know what _you _are."

I blinked before frowning. "Are you suggesting that Mr. Grey knows I'm a witch," I may have whispered that last part vehemently.

A twinkle danced in Damon's eyes and that only happened when he knew something I didn't. "We should continue this conversation in my office."

I wasn't given the opportunity to object before I was hauled out of Mr. Grey's home away from home. Damon tossed out a good bye to Cheryl, and instead of waiting for the elevator, we took the stairs. Well, Damon threw me over his shoulder and rushed down to the 17th floor. He put me down reluctantly once we made it to the designated floor. We walked down a series of corridors until we reached the reception area where Pamela, a seasoned veteran, quickly ushered us to where Damon would be stationed.

He had a corner office that offered a view of Center City. It was a nice view but his space wasn't nearly as large as Christian's—well no one's office was as big as his, but there was enough room in Damon's office for a love seat and a couple of bookshelves. Right now there was only a desk and chair inside.

"Thank you, Pam," Damon smiled and then closed the door on her face. He made himself right at home behind the desk and kicked his feet up.

"Now back to our earlier conversation," I reminded the ex.

"Right," Damon snapped his fingers. "I'm trying to figure out exactly how much your boss knows about the supernatural world. The man has connections all over the place which unfortunately leaves him a little untouchable, much to my chagrin," there was a twinge of regret in Damon's voice because that meant he couldn't kill him.

"What is he planning? Those comments he made at the board meeting about human potential and the next step in evolution. What is he up to?"

"I imagine you're going to discover the answers to those questions, _corpo provocante _in Copenhagen. Now, take lots of notes for daddy so that when you return we can review them," Damon replied flippantly.

As you can guess, I stilled before growling, "How do you know about Copenhagen?"

Damon sighed theatrically, rose from his chair, and then pulled me over to the window. He stood behind me and I tried not to let his proximity deter me or distract me.

"How many times and in how many different languages do I need to tell you that when it concerns you I make it my business to know? You think I wasn't going to find out you're leaving the country with your boss that happens to be male?"

I turned around to glare up at him. "Damon you can't keep spying on me and trying to control my life. We're not together anymore which means I don't B-E-L-O-N-G to you. Get that through your thick skull. I don't _want _you in my business!"

"Tough titty," his nostrils flared angrily. "As long as we're alive you'll_ always_ be my number one concern whether you want to be or not. Your boss wants to fuck you and I'm not going to let that happen."

"Gah!" I screamed and pushed Damon away from me. I was literally vibrating with anger. "This is what I'm talking about. This is why you can't work here!"

Damon looked affronted. "You're mad at me because your boss is having explicit thoughts about you? The irony!"

I laughed dryly. "You're a mind reader now."

"I'm a fucking man and I know when another man wants to _fuck_ a woman. And you're just dumb enough to fall for his shit."

My jaw dropped. "You asshole! Good to know you think so highly of _me_, and my intelligence, Damon. I'm glad you think I go around dropping my drawers for any prick that throws me a compliment or a smidgen of attention like I'm some country bumpkin that's never seen a dick before."

"Bonnie…"

"Don't you Bonnie me. I'm not working for you, with you, or anything! And I don't care if I get fired. There is no way in hell this will ever work. You don't respect me."

"Bonnie," Damon rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean what I said."

I stomped over to my ex and barely resisted poking him in the middle of his forehead. "And I'm just dumb enough to accept your apology, right?"

I left the office in a flourish, and decided to take the rest of the day off, go home, and get drunk.

* * *

Too many thoughts circulated around in my head. As I was riding the bus, my cell buzzed and I had every intention of ignoring it, but I caved, pulled it out and saw it was Erik Mauer calling. I sent his call to voice mail because I wasn't in the right frame of mind to be nice to anyone, not even to the little old lady who sat next to me and mistook my shoulder for a pillow. I nudged her the hell off of me, and then apologized when she almost fell out of the seat.

Once I was home, I stripped out of my business attire, threw on a pair of ripped jeans and an old T-shirt, but then slipped out of that and put on my workout gear. I have an in-home gym so I finally put that to use and pounded the punching bag for a solid hour before hunger pains nearly crippled me to my feet.

All throughout my workout I thought over my argument with Damon. Just like old times. And that situation back in his office could have ended another way. It was the type of situation where we could have thrown ourselves at one another, kissed, and then fucked right there on his desk. I'm sure the thought crossed his mind several times, but he was the last person on I earth I wanted to touch me right now.

Insulting me was right up there with physically harming me. Yes, I could admit to having inappropriate thoughts about Christian Grey. I was a hot-blooded female with _needs_ after all so sue me for that, but to suggest I didn't have the proper brain cells to not be able to see my boss' ulterior motives…

Damon was lucky I did not throw his ass out the gotdamn window.

Was it really a crime for me to want to move on from him? To be with someone else even if that someone else turned out to be my boss? It would be tricky and I couldn't even say it would be worth the risk. If Christian Grey ever made a move on me, until it happened I didn't know what I would do. But knowing how much he valued his professional reputation, I knew my boss had enough scruples to never do anything or say anything alleging to inappropriate behavior between himself and an employee.

This wasn't going to work, this arrangement between me and Damon even if it lasted no more than the appointed two weeks. There was simply too much history between us and obviously when alone we either butted heads or bumped uglies. There really was no in between with us.

Stefan used to tease us and say the reason why we fought the way we did is because we were the same person. I was the female version of Damon while he was the male version of me. I disputed that claim because one, I wasn't a homicidal lunatic, two, I didn't manipulate things or people around me in order to get my way. Okay, so maybe I cheated and used magic to get me out of a couple of jams, but no one went home dead on my watch. Damon couldn't say that.

"You two love _too_ hard," Stefan had said. "And because of that you're going to drive each other nuts. There have been very few people that Damon has loved, and once he finds someone he wants to share his life and heart with he clings to that person. There's just no escaping him."

Wasn't that the damned truth.

My doorbell rang and I halted all movement. I hadn't been expecting anyone, so I was immediately filled with suspicion.

Padding towards the front door, I checked the peephole and frowned. It was a deliveryman of some kind.

"Hi," I said after opening the door.

"I have a bouquet delivery for Mrs. Bonnie Bennett."

"That's me," I replied and was presented with two dozen vermilion, long stem roses in full bloom. "Oh, God," I was pleasantly taken aback, and then signed for the roses. "Thank you. Oh, wait let me get you a tip."

"It's been taken care of, ma'am. Have a good night."

"You, too."

Closing the door with my hip, I entered the dinning room where I placed the roses on the center of the table. Then I took a step back to admire them, before stepping forward to smell their fragrance. I checked for a card and finally located it. It was taped to the bottom of the vase and was the size of a greeting card.

I ripped it open and began reading.

_Mi portafortuna—_

I rolled my eyes yet continued.

_Mi portafortuna—_

_You know me and my big mouth. It gets away from me sometimes. It's hard for me to accept that we aren't together anymore. I wake up every morning expecting to see you lying beside me, and you're not, and that kills me more than anything. I've driven you away, and I keep hurting you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said in the office. It was out of line and you didn't deserve it. What you deserve are these roses that cost me a mint, but above that, you deserve respect. You might not believe this, but I do respect you, and I always have, and I always will. Again, I'm sorry._

_Yours forever,_

_Damon _

"Great. Just perfect," I mumbled and may have read the card over four more times before placing it beside the vase.

Damon made it almost impossible to stay mad at him, but this was about the principle of everything. He couldn't be a dick, turn around and buy me roses, and try to weasel forgiveness out of me. I mean, he could, but that didn't mean I had to fall for it.

I retrieved my cell from my bag to place a call. I hesitated because I saw that Erik left me a voice mail message. I nibbled my bottom lip and debated. What to do?

Chapter end.

**A/N: I've kind of been back and forth if I wanted to stick with the show's canon on Bamon's relationship (I should say lack thereof) and decided not to. So in this story, Damon never bit or tried to kill Bonnie, and Grams didn't die as a result from lifting the tomb spell. So just kind of erase what's canon from your mind when it comes to this story. I may borrow things that did happen on the show, if they fit, but I won't be following anything to the letter. And don't fret there will be more flashbacks peppered throughout the story. So what exactly is Mr. Grey up to in assigning Bonnie to help Damon at least for two weeks, and how much does he know about the supernatural world? Answers are coming soon. And Bonnie and Damon…will those two ever learn to get along? Thank you guys so much for reading! Until next time, love you!**


	10. Do You Remember The Time

**A/N: Hello, lovelies. I'm still technically supposed to be on a writing vacation, but I had to come back and update after a rather nasty incident happened on Tumblr last night. I just want to personally thank each and every single one of you beautiful, flawless, people for having my back no matter what and for loving the stories I write even when they may frustrate you at times or what have you. This chapter is primarily Bamon and does feature some flashbacks that I've woven in with present action so hopefully it won't be too confusing. Thank you guys again for your patience and letting me know what you think about my stories! Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters (with the exception of Christian Grey who belongs to EL James) are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Yes, I just completed the mail merge and everything should be disbursed on Monday." Pause. "I've re-confirmed with Hotel D'Angleterre and the top floor is still reserved for your use, sir. Mr. Andretti called and wanted to reschedule the private dinner he wanted you to attend on Wednesday so I've penciled it for Thursday evening. Is that all right, sir?"

"That works better since Dr. Gao has requested my presence for a follow-up symposium on Wednesday and it might run over. Are you all ready to go, Miss Bennett?"

The tenor of Mr. Grey's voice dropped from professionalism to well, something else. Not something naughty that would have any woman's bits standing on end, but I heard the lowered inflection that would trigger an erotic thought or two to enter an impressionable mind. Was he testing me?

Thankfully my skin didn't pebble with anything remotely resembling anticipation. I was still quite salty with his pushy ass over the whole making me work as Damon's assistant thing.

I cleared my throat and resumed our teleconference. "Yes, Mr. Grey. Taylor will be picking me up by six a.m. sharp tomorrow morning?"

"He will. We'll be in the air no later than 7:15. Well, that settles everything. Do you have any additional questions? Ask them now as I will be unavailable for the rest of the day."

I would hope so considering it was fucking Saturday and he was holding up my procrastinating. "No sir, I have no additional questions and if I do I'll contact Dakota or Cheryl. They should be able to help me."

"Very well," his tone dismissive and superior. "Until tomorrow, Miss Bennett, I look forward to seeing you."

Click.

Rude bastard, I thought with a slight smile as I clicked off my Bluetooth and took it out of my ear. Stretching my arms over my head, and arching my back, I exited out of my work system and stood up from my desk.

Cheryl had warned me that Mr. Grey liked to make last minute adjustments before traveling internationally. I just never thought last minute would consist of him calling me, disrupting me out of a very interesting dream where I was about to be crowned Lady Loki of Asgard so that I could send out a mass mailing to all his constituents about some issue or another. I had the sneaky suspicion that he probably just wanted to hear my bedroom voice, but again that was me speculating and assuming.

A thought sprang to me and I quickly retook my seat, opened up Google and typed in Dr. Henry Gao's name. When his picture showed up on my screen I had to bite my lip and shake my head. That was a tall glass of fine Asian man. Okay, focus Bonnie.

I read over his bio on Wikipedia, like seriously, he has a bio on Wikipedia. Moving along, I read he went to a bunch of schools in China of which the names I won't even attempt to pronounce. He was a child genius, a teenaged prodigy, a young adult Rhodes Scholar, did a lot of research projects and found new, innovative, and clever ways to manipulate leucocytes, erythrocytes, and thrombocytes. In other words, white blood cells, red blood cells, and clotting cells.

The pieces of information I had I just had to put them together to get a gist of whatever this undertaking my boss was about to proceed with, but I still felt like I was missing too many variables to make a cohesive picture.

_Cloned blood_, Damon told me after his initial meeting with my boss. So I quickly did another search where I typed in the good doctor's name plus cloned blood.

I came up empty. Ugh.

If Dr. Gao was cloning blood why would a vampire be interested in that other than to say 'Yea another food source? Let's party.'

Unless vampire blood was what was being cloned? Damon did allude to the fact that Mr. Grey might not be completely ignorant of the supernatural world. If he wasn't, and Dr. Gao and others like him wasn't oh, boy this could get messy and could potentially turn fatal for some.

Mr. Grey's schedule for the summit was jammed packed with meetings on top of meetings. Some I would be attending with him and some I wouldn't be. I had my ways of getting information, but I was hoping I wouldn't have to resort to having to drug my boss and brain jack him involuntarily.

I was determined to get answers, though. I just had to question how far was I willing to go to get them.

With that whole operation placed on hold, I began doing my chores around my apartment. I had two ridiculously large suitcases packed and loaded with essentials ranging from vitality important like underwear, to miniscule such as my wool socks. I had been checking the weather like a meteorologist fangirl to keep abreast of the climate in Denmark during this time of year. From what I had been able to gather the weather might run between the low to mid-seventies which would be doable, because if there was one thing I detested was feeling cold of any kind.

But you were married to a vampire, Bonnie, aren't they cold? So glad you asked. Yes they can be cold but there were creative ways to warm up a blood sucker. Wink-wink.

"Change those thoughts," I ordered myself and cleaned out my refrigerator, ridding it of old takeout boxes and leftovers from meals abandoned. Once the bag was full, I collected the trash from the bathroom and promptly exited my apartment.

As soon as I stepped out into the hall I heard some strange sounds coming from the apartment down the hall.

I could count on one hand how many of my neighbors I knew by name and face. There was Ms. Deloris who lived on the fifth floor. We usually chat at the mailboxes. Then there was Mr. Conrad, a humble and demure retired pharmacist who called me Dorothy Dandridge every time he saw me. There were a couple of others I sometimes ran into in the laundry room and in the elevator, and we exchanged pleasantries, but there was one neighbor I felt she and I had engaged in some kind of silent footwear competition.

She lived on my floor. One morning when I overslept and literally had seconds to get to work, I had spilled out of my apartment dropping nearly everything in my hands in order to lock the door. The noise of my purse imploding like a bomb on the floor and my unladylike cursing caught her attention. I had briefly glanced in her direction but it had been enough time for me to take her measure. She was about five-five, one hundred and twenty pounds, fair skinned, stereotypically blonde with blue eyes but she was wearing the latest chocolate ankle strap Gucci pumps.

"Nice shoes," I commented and got myself together. I was not wearing my Sasha Fierce pumps, but my sneakers because I knew I was going to have to make a run for it.

The woman coquetted a little like she was a foot model turning her ankle this and that way so I could see the shoe from all angles. All of that was so uncalled for, but whatever.

"Thanks. Just picked them up in New York during Fashion Week. Practically bought them off the runway," she gushed. Yes, now your life has meaning, I thought. "Nice Keds by the way," and she had the audacity to do one of those cute little condescending snickers.

"They're Nike's and thanks," I corrected her hoping there wasn't too much black woman from the hood in my voice. Mystic Falls—the hood—ha!

After that pleasant exchange we only saw one another by coincidence maybe a handful of times and each time she saw me, I was in my stiletto killers. Prada, Louis Vitton, and Ives St. Laurent graced my feet, but she was able to match them with Manolo, Armani, and Chanel. If we happened to run into each other or crossed paths, our eyes would briefly meet before lowering to our feet. If her thin lips lifted in a smirk, she figured she won that round, but if that perfectly arched eyebrow of hers lifted and said lips shriveled up like a prune, I was the victor.

Anyways, I had to pass her apartment on my way to take out the trash. I heard an interesting noise coming from her apartment and as I drew nearer to the door I realized it was partially ajar. You couldn't see inside, but in her haste or whatever, she didn't close and lock her door properly. My apartment complex was fairly safe and located in an upscale part of Seattle Lake, but one could never be too careful. Danger, life and death could be wrapped up in a package that came with smoldering eyes and a six pack; fiends didn't always look like demons with rubbery skin with rakish breath. Ms. Happy Feet should take more care.

I debated whether it would be the neighborly thing to close her door for her, but then I didn't want her to turn around and try to accuse me of being a home invader. I could always ring the doorbell, wait for her to "see" she hadn't properly secured her apartment, but the moment I heard…

"Do me right there, big daddy," I figured it was best to just let sleeping dogs—well in her case, humping dogs, lie where they were.

I had to laugh though. Didn't know she had it in her. With my trash disposed of, I had to naturally walk past her door once more, and this time I started humming so I wouldn't hear anything I didn't want to hear.

"YES! Oh my you're so big! You're going so deep. No one has ever been this deep before."

I nearly tripped over my feet. Cheeks burning, I quickly rushed back inside my humble abode and wondered if I'd be able to look that woman in the eye with a straight face ever again.

Letting out a sigh of relief at the comforting silence that greeted me, I headed over to my entertainment center and started searching my endless music collection for something inspiring to listen to. My fingers traipsed over the plastic spines of my CD cases and it would of course induce a flashback of when Damon was here last planning my seduction.

"_Kem. Kenny Lattimore or Sade?"_

My eyes wondered over to the bouquet that had been delivered last week and the roses were still clinging on to life, to their brilliance. The color had faded so instead of being a deep crimson color they were now indigo, but still in full bloom. A little tweak of my powers would restore them to full glory, but I loved the color they were currently, and I hated to manipulate the natural order of a life cycle. So I left well enough alone.

I turned my attention back to my CD's to continue my search. My couch was waiting for me to snuggle up with a good book.

No, I should get dressed, head to the Farmer's Market to stock up on fresh ingredients because I wanted Greek for dinner tonight.

An hour later I headed out and rode my rarely used bicycle down the four blocks it took to reach the Farmer's Market that was set up in the square of Lennox Drive and Franklin Avenue. There was a nice sized crowd milling about as I began my shopping for organic, home grown products.

It didn't take me long to find what I needed at reasonable prices and after getting a large soft pretzel and a ice cold lemonade to wash it all down with, I headed over to the chillax section where live music was being played and people could sit at one of the various wrought iron tables on the grassy knoll or spread out blankets and have themselves a picnic.

I managed to find an empty table so I could finish my pretzel and sip my lemonade. In reality I was trying not to think about the fact I would basically be alone with the enigma Mr. Christian Grey next week starting tomorrow. I was already nervous about making a monumental fool of myself by messing up something tremendously important and to have him there to witness it, should I just tender my resignation now and get it over with?

I had faced a family of thousand year old vampires, werewolves with ancient grudges, and a sleuth of other creatures that sprouted from a well of evil and I survived. I could handle this one, albeit powerful and deliciously handsome man with tact and grace. Right?

Someone dropped something and I heard glass breaking. In that moment I wasn't here anymore but suddenly somewhere else.

DBDBDBDBD

The sound of broken glass caught my attention and I began to walk towards the sound. Shouting voices filled the airways and it sparked my anxiety. By the time I reached the library, Stefan was on the floor, Damon stood over him, stake in hand.

"What the hell are you doing?" I bellowed and rushed down the steps and with the twitch of my powers sent Damon sliding backwards and some distance away from his brother who was bleeding from the lip.

Cold blue eyes narrowed at me to which I promptly ignored and tried to help Stefan to his feet who waved me off.

"Bonnie, you should go."

I was already shaking my head in refusal. There was no way I was going to leave Stefan to fend for himself when Damon looked ready to end his life. It seemed I owned the patent on walking in on the two of them in the throes of some kind of beatdown. Damon, according to Elena was always trying to pick a fight with Stefan for some perceived slight, and Stefan usually took it because more than ever, after the truth of Katherine's betrayal had been exposed Damon's sanity and humanity was hanging on by a very precarious thread.

"I'm not leaving you alone with him, Stefan."

Damon scoffed at that and dropped the stake in his hand to the floor. It caught my attention and I found myself staring at him again. As I continued to look I realized he was wearing the _exact _same clothes he had been wearing when the tomb was opened and he rushed in to save his lady love only to discover her bitch ass had never been buried inside.

Mind you all of that took place three weeks ago. I took a cursory sniff of the air. Yep, there was a definite stench wafting from the elder Salvatore.

Damon was a pretty boy by traditional standards. He had classical features that artists and photographers drooled over, so he never had to do much other than roll out of bed and throw on clothes to attract attention. His wardrobe was simple: shirts, button downs, jeans, and boots, though his wig could stand to get combed or decently cut every once in a blue moon. Other than that he was the pillar of impeccable. So seeing him like this, wearing stained and soiled clothing, beard encroaching on his jaw, wild caveman hair, and those dead, dead turquoise eyes was disconcerting to say the least.

Stefan's hands on my arm pushing me towards the steps knocked me out of my perusal. "Just go, Bonnie. I'll be all right."

As of late, Stefan had begun drinking human blood from bags instead of relying on animal blood, once again according to Elena. He was stronger than when he first returned to Mystic Falls, but Damon—he looked unhinged and dangerous. Fatally dangerous.

He leered at me and I heard my soul shriek. I stopped walking just in the off chance he was waiting for me to turn my back so he could pounce.

"Damon!" Stefan shouted to garner his attention.

Damon didn't even flinch, just kept that maniacal gaze on me. So not good.

I took a step backwards and kept walking until the back of my feet bumped into the edge of the bottom step. Blindly I reached for the railing and then took a step up. Damon never blinked, never said a word but I felt like he was cursing me out as if reading me my Miranda Rights.

"Call me later, Stefan," I mumbled and then, when I felt it was fairly safe, I hightailed it out of the boardinghouse.

Later that night as I sat at the dinner table with Grams, I replayed that moment over and over in my head. Was that what love and obsession reduced a person too? That you stopped caring about your appearance, life, living, and you saw everyone as an enemy?

"What's wrong, chile, you've barely touched your dinner?"

I shook my head and continued to push my food around on the plate. "I'm not really hungry."

"Bonnie," Grams said in that stern, reprimanding voice of hers.

Sighing, I dropped my fork and stared at my grandmother. "I was at the boardinghouse today to talk to Stefan about that spell, the one I can use to read auras. He and Damon got into a fight, and Damon nearly staked Stefan. He's still not over the whole Katherine thing."

"I imagine he wouldn't be considering he had been searching tirelessly for a way to free her for a hundred and forty-five years. But the Salvatore's aren't your problem anymore, Bonnie. We did our part and _that's_ the end of it. I don't want you going over there alone. Better yet, stay away from them both—period."

Easier said than done. As much as I tried to stay out of the middle, as much I tried not to interfere in their problems, there was _always_ something happening.

It began with Stefan being kidnapped by a group of vampires he pissed off back in the 20's. To this day I can still smell their burning bodies deep in my nasal cavity whenever I inhaled a large breath. After that, things were quiet until a vampire Damon had sired—unwittingly—came to town looking for his ass and was adamant in offing any woman who so much as looked in his direction. Katherine finally showed her face and killed Damon's minion before ruthlessly telling him she never loved him, only Stefan. Katherine started mayhem because she could and as her own source of entertainment.

Didn't last long.

Needless to say no one wept at her funeral. Grams had sent her up in flames in retribution for our ancestor Emily who served Katherine who had turned around and sold her out to the Council in 1864 to bargain her own freedom. Damon smiled for the first time in months as he watched her burn.

Elena was kidnapped. Then Jeremy. Then Caroline. Then the cycle repeated. During all of those happenings, Damon had been by my side or the reverse. Having to constantly save people slowly but surely gave him purpose again and he took regular showers, shaved even, but still didn't do a damn thing about that hair of his. I guess that would have been asking for the world.

To everyone else he still put out an air of indifference and aloofness, but I saw something else on the night he saved me from a witch hunter. Seeing him lift my kidnapper straight off his feet, hand wrapped around his neck, sneering and snarling, hate to admit it but I was turned on a little bit, but was really in too much pain to respond accordingly. Two of my ribs were broken, and I was positive my spleen had been ruptured.

"Thought you could touch her? Take her away from m—take her away everyone she loves? Wrong," Damon didn't even hesitate. He snapped that hunter's neck and smashed his hand through his chest removing his heart. It was brutal and disgusting and there wasn't even a question about the man coming back to life. He was dead. Damon killed him. For me.

I guess that trumped sending a girl flowers and chocolate. Here's a nice warm, human heart for you, madam. May I escort you to the malt shoppe this Saturday night?

Damon approached me, fell to his haunches and stared at me intently. Without question he bit into his hand, the clean one, and held his bleeding appendage up to my lips to drink.

"Don't argue with me, Bonnie," he said automatically knowing I was about to refuse. "You need this and I _know_ you do."

Our eyes locked and I could see he was—worried about me. Out of the many expressions his face could make—and there were a lot, I never saw him look at me the way he did that night. As if he might go back to being that shell of a vampire if I didn't make it.

I didn't hesitate. His blood was the elixir of the undead and it was fusing with my life. There was a melding, a joining, he was in me and I could _feel _him, and nothing from that point would ever be the same between us ever again.

Weeks later I decided to put myself out there. Seeing him flirt shamelessly with other women and Elena, hearing about his exploits though I didn't want to, seeing him everyday but not being to be relax because I couldn't afford to have anyone discover my secret and expose me, I had to keep up the façade that I barely tolerated him, when really every night I dreamt about him. I was done being the wallflower and the girl who politely stepped out of the way when someone showed interest in one of her friends.

Yes, I did question if my changed feelings for my enemy might have been the result of drinking his blood, but it was dismissed when Stefan assured me that vampire blood only lingered in the human body for twenty-four hours. I also happened to be a witch and I wondered if my physiology was slightly different therefore the rules might not exactly apply to me, but Grams said that if there's no ritual—meaning an exchange of blood between a vampire and witch and no words similar to wedding vows are exchanged, I was in no danger of being bonded or tied to Damon in any way.

My feelings were my own. Though in retrospect, I could have handled how I let them be known with a bit more class.

My arms were wrapped around him as he dragged me into the hotel room that Caroline and I pooled our funds together to rent after our junior prom. Damon attempted to plant me on the bed, but I was determined to bring him down with me.

"I love you, Damon," and I knew as soon as I said it, he wouldn't believe me because I was looped on the liquor. What could I say? My feelings had been bottled up for so long and I had no other way to express myself and I supplied my courage with alcohol.

Oh, I knew Damon stalked me from time to time, but he never went out of his way to say he was interested in more than being partners in crime, or occasionally crashing my booth at the Grill when I went there to study or was surprisingly on a date.

I knew he felt _something _for me but tried to hide behind his supposed "crush" on Elena, and never made any kind of move. The wuss.

He started to pull away, mouth forming to give his rebuttal against my drunken confession. I held him even tighter.

"No, no, no I really do love you," I repeated on a hiccup.

The look on Damon's face, like a walrus had been removed from his anus made me burst out into slightly diabolical shrieks of laughter. So not helping your case here, Bonnie, I thought.

Caroline had walked into the room with an astonished look on her face.

Damon physically removed my death grip on him, and rose from the bed. He was furious, I could tell as he walked towards the door. "She's as drunk as…a fucking drunk," was not one of his best one liners as he left the room.

I grew panicked thinking oh shit I just messed everything up, tremendously, and he was going to dangle my drunken declaration over my head, make fun of me, and call me a bunch of stupid names because that's how he dealt with emotion. He mocked it with sarcasm.

I was going to go after him to explain what I meant, but my stomach chose that precise moment to accessorize Caroline's dress. She didn't talk to me for two weeks after that.

The next time I saw Damon was the night before I was about to be shipped off to Rodanthe, North Carolina with Grams for the whole of the summer. Elena wanted to have a get together before everyone went their separate ways. She and Stefan were going backpacking through Europe; Caroline on college tours; Matt unfortunately would be stuck in Mystic Falls working, but was looking forward to a two-week long football training camp in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.

I was standing on the patio because it was hard being around Damon knowing we never discussed what I had dubbed: Prom Night Disaster.

"We can't be together," he began without preamble.

I turned to face him but said nothing.

"You know it would never work. We'd only end up killing each other, and besides…" he swallowed thickly, which I noticed, "I'm in love with Elena."

My smile lacked warmth I can tell you that much. "You think you are."

Damon tilted his head inquisitively as if I wouldn't have the means to look through that bold-faced lie. "You think you know the inner workings of my head and heart?"

"I might not know everything about love, but I do know that what you feel for Elena is a deep infatuation. That doesn't equal love, though. She reminds you of what you could have had with Katherine had she not deceived you. You appreciate Elena for her friendship yet at the same time she infuriates you with her sweetness…her eagerness to easily forgive you. You thrive off challenges, Damon. You might come off as if you want a simple, easy, and uncomplicated life, but that's not you. You're an octagon trying to make yourself fit into a square peg. Stop trying to conform to what she wants and be what someone else needs you to be, better yet just be yourself. That's all I want from you."

I walked away that night leaving him with something to think about.

He must have thought hard because he showed up in North Carolina late at night in the rain banging on the French doors that led to the balcony outside of my room. It was such a clichéd but slightly romantic yet terrifying thing to wake up in the middle of the night to see a blue-eyed vampire watching you through the window imploring you to wake the hell up before the neighbors called the cops.

I opened the doors to a very drenched Damon Salvatore. "Did you mean it? When you said you loved me were you just talking out your ass that night, or did you mean it?"

"I meant it."

"I don't understand how…?"

"I don't understand it either, but I'm tired of fighting what I feel for you, Damon."

Water ran down his nose, dripped from his eyelashes, conformed to the curvature of his lips. It was getting difficult to concentrate.

"It was my blood," he continued with his denial. "My blood is making you think you have feelings for me."

"Trust me, I asked my Grams and she said that unless a binding ritual is performed between a vampire and witch when they exchange blood, and there was none in our case, I'm not tied to you. So that means what I feel for you is real."

Damon still looked uncertain and I couldn't exactly blame him. He wasn't used to people saying they loved him. "I don't have any…I'm not good at relationships," he admitted. "I tend to fuck things up before they start or compel them away…"

"I'm not a pro at dating, either. I'm only seventeen. I'm not expecting you to be perfect. Besides, perfect is boring, and its not perfect Damon Salvatore that I fell in love with."

He tried not to look cocky and tried his very best to appear coy. "What Damon Salvatore did you fall in love with?"

"The one who tells me the truth without sugarcoating or beating around the bush. The one who'll have my back even if he gives me grief ahead of time for putting him out of his way. I fell in love with the Damon Salvatore who does love his brother very much even if he rather be killed by a legion of cats than say that out loud."

Damon snorted but didn't deny my words.

"I fell in love with you because you deserve love, Damon. I was just too blinded by own bias to see it, but I see it now. You've been there for me when I needed you the most. We've helped each other through a lot. You push me and I push you back. We challenge each other. And I just don't want to be your friend. But if that's what you want…" I let my thought trail off.

Damon appeared to take a moment to mull over what I said. I wasn't expecting him to repeat my sentiments and if he tried I wasn't too sure I'd believe him. But if one of us was going to get this ball rolling who better than me?

He took a step forward only to hit the invisible barrier that kept him out. As the rain continued to pour down on his head, I could make out a slight flush to his cheeks. Had little ole me caused this antique to blush? I couldn't stop smiling.

"Why are you standing there looking cute and edible in nothing but a t-shirt and fantasies, Judgy? Invite me in."

Grams would have my tail for this, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. I took a single step back. "Damon…come in."

He crossed the threshold, wetting the floor, dripping everywhere, and I couldn't help but notice how his gray T-shirt had become transparent and I could see everything from the broadness of his shoulders, to the color of his nipples, down to his abs and that trail of hair that led to places I didn't know yet but would become _very _familiar with. All in due time.

Damon cupped my face with his frighteningly cold and wet hands. "I could hurt you, you know that."

"And I could hurt you but are you going to let that fear stop us?"

"No," he said before slanting his mouth over mine.

I had kissed my share of guys before this moment but for a second I was completely paralyzed. I thought kissing Damon would be like making out with a marble wall or statute, but his lips were surprisingly soft, pliant, and molded over mine with such ease you'd think this was something we did on a regular and it wasn't our first lip lock. Slowly I draped my arms over his shoulders while his tightened around my waist, bringing me closer, pulling me up against his body until I was standing on my tip toes.

His tongue grazed the seam of my lips before penetrating until finally I opened my mouth to allow him to plow inside. Our tongues circled, and frolicked. One of his hands dropped to my ass and began to knead it, while I tread my little fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. I became consciously aware of the fact the front of my shirt and legs were getting as wet as he was and my nipples were as stiff as whoa, yeah, _that. _

Damon pulled away and it took some effort on both of our parts not to dive right back in. "I'm ready to fit my bulbous head in your oval peg," he leered.

I rolled my eyes in admonishment. "Don't ruin this by being nasty and you know it is _way _too soon for that."

"Yeah I know," he pecked my lips. "I don't want to be your friend, either."

Joy swept through me.

"I don't know what I want to be right now, but for you I'm ready to see what can happen."

"Okay," I reassured him with another quick kiss.

"Thank you," Damon said.

"For what?"

"Issuing the challenge."

DBDBDBDBD

I shook myself out of my thoughts and I was back in the present. There were people all around me. Couples, families, groups of friends, and lone individuals like myself. I missed Rebekah and wondered when she might be returning from her family business in Italy. Probably when I'm in Copenhagen which is how those things usually tend to work out.

"You look like you're thinking about when you fell in love with me."

Duck lips immediately took over my face as I looked up and to my left. "Leave it up to you to wear all black during a heat wave." I deliberately ignored his comment not wanting him to know how accurate he was.

"What can I say I like sticking out in a crowd. Mind if I join you?" Damon asked and proceeded to pull out the other wrought iron chair at the table and helped himself to a seat.

"Please, sit, stay," I muttered dryly and placed my sunshades on. His pale skin was slightly blinding me.

"Ready for your big trip across the globe with your boss?" he stretched his eyes theatrically.

"You didn't climb out of your Dumpster to inquire about my impending trip, Oscar the Grouch, but thank you for trying."

Damon shook his ink-black head before snatching my lemonade and helping himself to a rather greedy sip. "No problem, Count Dracula," he winked.

I narrowed my eyes. "Count Dracula?"

"You're the one with the widow's peak," he shrugged after dissing my hairline. "I'm surprised to see you out and about. Usually you're running around making sure everything is in order before jet setting. Took out the trash? Went over your list of things to pack five times? Changed the voice mail greeting on your home answering machine?"

I really hated the fact he knew me like the back of his hand so well sometimes. I smiled at Damon lazily. "Yes, sweetheart."

"Seems I raised you well. Teasing aside, we haven't seen each other in a while."

"We saw each last week where you were being an unnecessary jerk."

"And I apologized in the way any repentant man would. I'm still waiting for you to thank me."

I just had to stare at Damon for that last remark. I got a little distracted when a soccer ball confused my leg with a net.

A sweaty teenager ran over, braces showing to retrieve the ball. "Sorry about that, ma'am."

"No problem. Just try to be more careful. There're small children out."

"Yeah," he muttered as if he were saying "whatever", picked up the ball and rushed back over to his friends.

My leg was still stinging but I ignored it and then took a sip of my lemonade to discover Damon left me with the pulpy mixture at the bottom. He was looking rather pleased with himself.

"Is my wayward former brother-in-law still in town?"

"He is. I can't seem to get rid of him. But he's going back next Tuesday. It's too bad you're leaving tomorrow. We all could have sat down to have dinner. A home cooked meal. I can tell you've been eating too much take out."

That made me sit up straighter in my seat. "What are you trying to imply, Salvatore?"

His crooked grin was equal parts playful and sinful. "Your ass…"

"If you say its spreading like butter I will stab you blind with this straw, Damon," I tried not to laugh, but couldn't help it.

Damon chuckled. "You know I love it no matter what size it is, but either you've been hitting the stairmaster harder or everything you're eating is going back there."

"All right," I tossed my hands up in the air. "I can admit that I have been hitting up the fast food joints too much, and in my defense I've been working overtime to make sure I learn everything needed to be a good little trained show dog for Chris—I mean Mr. Grey and by the time I make it home I'm too exhausted to cook. And before you lecture me about preparing my meals for the week on the weekends, like I said I'm too exhausted to cook even on the weekends."

"Then I should help you out. Two nights out of the week you eat at my place."

My stomach, which really should have been content with the pretzel I just ate, shouldn't have chosen now to growl in remembrance of all the gourmet meals Damon used to cook for me. I'd help sometimes but mostly with prep work. Damon between us made the better housewife.

His offer was tempting and already I was envisioning him standing in front of the stove, dish towel thrown over his left shoulder, pouring white wine into a silver frying pan about to sauté vegetables and boneless chicken breasts. He knew how to make mostly everything from scratch.

"Can I think about it?" I needed to stall.

"The offer stands until the world ends," he yawned and sat back in the seat. "You look really beautiful today."

His compliment shamelessly did make me blush mostly because it was unexpected. I studied what I was wearing. Nothing over the top. Just a pair of shorts, plum knit halter top, and my Guess sandals. My hair fell around my face in 40's inspired waves.

"Thank you," I mumbled. "And thank you for the roses. They're really beautiful."

Damon inclined his head.

Things were quiet for a while until Damon suddenly got out of the chair, reached for my hand, and hauled me to my feet.

"Don't some of the vendors typically give out free stuff at this thing?" Damon inquired. I nodded. "Then let's go stock up on some free shit."

I chortled and grabbed my bags. We had to make a detour to my bike so I could store away my fresh fruits and vegetables. I didn't hold Damon's hand or arm as we walked through the crowd though I felt his fingers brush against mine several times as we made our way through the market.

There were samples of cheese, wine, breads, and a whole bunch of creative concoctions that left my breath oh so funky. Damon bought me another lemonade to replace the one he guzzled and got one for himself as well. When we made our way to the nursery portion of the market, he slipped a gardenia in my hair, tucking the stem behind my ear. He could be terribly romantic sometimes.

I don't know how much time passed before we ended up where he found me. At the end of our perusal we had I Heart Seattle Lake Farmer's Market T-shirts, and recyclable bags, with brochures on how to conserve the planet. Whoo-hoo. I stood back while Damon walked over to the live band. I watched curiously as he exchanged words and then I saw him slip a folded bill into the hands of the saxophone player.

Damon stood in front of me in less than two minutes. "I need to make myself clear about something."

"What?"

"I'm after it."

I'm sure the expression on my face was a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. "After what?"

He didn't answer my question but the song the musicians began to play answered the question for me. Our wedding song, the song we had our first dance to, "Between the Raindrops" by Lifehouse featuring Natasha Bedingfield.

And there I was being suspended once again, displaced within my own mind, hurtling through time until my feet landed and I was in Maui, on a dance floor, in my reception dress that bared my legs and arms was sheer and beaded in the right places, and Damon was leading me to the center of the floor.

He led me to the makeshift dance area in the middle of the Farmer's Market.

At our wedding, he had shunned his tux jacket, lost his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and then we started to move to the choreographed steps it took us months to learn because he had two left feet. But our dance was a combination of the Rumba and the Tango with some contemporary moves thrown in as the song flowed from one verse to another. The whole time we kept our eyes on each other and I trusted Damon to catch me when I had to fall backwards while he was standing nowhere near me, and like always he was there to catch me.

In real time, I was staring into those eyes and felt those emotions I had no trouble expressing back then because everything was new and heightened as if I had become a newborn vampire. At that time I didn't think it was possible to love him anymore than I did, and the fact that he was mine and mine alone and that no one else could have him but me, made tears leak from my eyes.

People searched their whole lives for their soul mate and I had found mine almost too easily. That was how I felt about Damon not too long ago.

It was a perfect moment in an era of perfect moments and I had pulled him down to consummate the memory in a searing hot kiss that had everyone laughing, clapping, and probably blushing and becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

I couldn't do that now because we weren't that Bonnie and Damon anymore. He was still him, maybe with less edge, and I was me with a hardened exterior.

The pain of what I had and didn't anymore came stampeding back and I pushed against Damon's chest so he could lift me back to stand on my feet. The dance was over and I felt too raw and wide open for interpretation.

"You still feel it don't you?" he asked point blank. It was our blessing and curse those feelings that had tied us together way before we made vows and legally became husband and wife. He ran his fingers down my neck. "No matter who you're with, or where you are, I'm with you because I'm _in _you, and nothing is _ever _going to change that, Bonnie."

His words ended on what sounded like a threat. "Damon…"

Thankfully the heavens took pity on me and decided to drop an ocean worth of water on everyone's heads unexpectedly.

I screamed naturally while Damon just looked chagrined. He grabbed my hand. "Let's go to my place. It's close."

I didn't even put up much of an argument. We raced through the market trying to dodge raindrops (hmm maybe life did imitate art) and people as the crowd scattered to and fro looking for temporary shelter. Should have known it would rain since the air had been so dry and humid for the last three days.

Thinking we'd have to run a block, I was stumped stupid when we simply raced across the street. Yeah, he did live close.

Damon punched in the security code to open the front door of his high rise—McNamara Crossing, a twenty story building mostly made of glass, steel, and people with too much money in their bank accounts.

It was freezing inside of the atrium but Damon zipped us over to the elevator which thankfully one was waiting on the main floor and, putting in another code, we were off at something akin to warp speed. By the time the elevator stopped moving I was still waiting for my stomach to catch up.

We got off on the fifteenth floor. Well, more accurately we stepped right into Damon's penthouse bachelor pad once the steel elevator doors swished open.

"Welcome to my home," he said and began moving about. Lights flickered on without him touching a single switch. How nice, living in a motion sensor house.

I was staring straight ahead at the kitchen. To enter the wide open living room you had to take three granite steps down, beyond that I could guess was where the master suite and additional rooms were located.

One wall of the living room was made of nothing but floor to ceiling windows. The furniture was masculine, black, leather, with chocolate and red accents here and there. To my right was a fireplace big enough to roast a pig.

When Damon popped back up after I had managed to unglue my feet and entered the living room, he had changed clothes and was donned in a pair of black silk pajama bottoms, shirtless. He held out the matching shirt to me. We used to split his pajama sets back in the day.

"This is for you. Let me show you the bathroom so you can change, get dry, or stay wet, whichever you like. I won't complain if you want to stay wet," he leered.

I simply gave him a pointed looked.

I followed behind Damon still taking in the sights of his newly acquired digs. Stefan's words came back to me when he showed up at my apartment.

"_Damon doesn't live far from here."_

Four blocks away, that's how not far he was.

"Where's Stefan? I thought you said he was still in town?" the sound of my voice echoed off the lacquered stone walls.

"Oh, I meant to say that he'll be back on Tuesday. He's in Mystic Falls playing house with Caroline again now that Liz is nicely healed and back at work."

"Un-hun," I muttered skeptically. Lies, lies, lies!

Instead of showing me to a guest bathroom, Damon took me to the master suite. The walls were painted black with white crown molding. The bed frame, end tables, furniture, the rug, the covers, everything was some variation of black. Surprisingly the chandelier in his room was painted as close a blue to his eye color as anyone could get.

"Your room has zero personality, Damon," I teased.

"I have personality enough. You might not like my bedroom, but I'm sure you'll get a kick out of my bathroom," he pushed opened the door and I had to say he was right.

His bathroom was like walking through Middle Earth. If it wasn't made out of wood, it was made out of stone. Damon's bathroom was an architect's and interior designer's wet dream. My eyes landed on the mosaic Jacuzzi tub made exclusively of moss green tile. It was connected to a glass encased shower to which one wall was made out of glass and I hope it was two-way glass because the bathroom faced the front of the building which meant people would be able to see his naked ass shower every single morning. The double sink appeared as if it had been hand chiseled out of a mountain.

"I'm guessing you like?"

Damon's voice startled me. "I do. It's beautiful."

"Not nearly as beautiful as this," he closed the door so I could see what he meant.

It was the picture I had commissioned for his birthday way back when. The one where I was completely naked with rose petals covering my bits. I blushed profusely.

With that hanging proudly on his wall in front of the toilet no less, I guess I could put my speculation to rest about Damon seeing other women. Then again, he could just compel them not to make a fuss about his naked ex-wife staring at them while they tinkled.

I faced him. "If I asked you to take that down you won't will you?"

Slowly he shook his head. "Get comfortable because it looks like you'll be here for a while. It's turning ugly outside."

And he said that with far too much glee in my opinion.

"Or," I said, "You could just drive me home right this second."

"I could do that, but I'm not going to," he said unapologetically.

Then I remembered I was a little empty handed. "Oh shit! My bike, my groceries! Damon I can't stay. I have to get my stuff."

He sighed and then approached me until there was very little room left between our bodies. I couldn't help but be aware of him especially when he stood so close to me. I was eye-level with his pecks and they were right there in licking distance. That slumbering goddess inside recognized her mate was near and half dressed, I calmly punched her lights back out.

Damon tilted my chin up with his finger. Just that simple touch alone was beginning to sear my skin. "I'll take care of it." Pause. "You're going to be alone with Mr. Grey for six days all I'm asking for is a few hours of your time. Is that too much?"

"Well…no…yes!… I don't think…"

Damon silenced my argument with a lone finger pressed against my lips. He resumed speaking while tracing the shape of my lips with that finger. "I make demands all the time and I usually get my way after careful persuasion."

"Manipulation."

"Semantics. I just want to spend this time with you before I have to rule over you with an iron fist and maybe something harder than that for the first two weeks in August."

I turned sour at the reminder. "About that…"

"Nope," my ex-hubby pinched my lips shut. "That's a done deal and you can't get out of it so suck it up, Witchy. You know you want to be my hot little secretary," he smirked.

I laughed humorlessly and slapped his hand away. "If anyone is going to be taking orders, it'll be you, Damon."

He growled. "I like the sound of that."

"I just bet you do. Can you shoo so I can change?"

"Why? Not like I haven't seen you naked before."

I stared at him drolly until he relented, moved his eyes heavenward, and left the bathroom but not without issuing one final warning. "You can resist me all you like, Bonnie, but things can only get better or worse and that's entirely up to you."

Damon was gone before I could question what he meant by that.

Chapter end.

**A/N: I thought it would be different if Bonnie tossed out that she liked Damon first, but then he would be resistant to the relationship. Though I'm sure it didn't seem he put up much of a fight. And I wanted to show them just doing something normal and maybe perhaps something even romantic for a change because the temperature is about to go up. Way up. I'll try to go easy on you guys, but I'm not making any promises. Answers are coming in terms of why they divorced so stay tuned for that, and also more Bamon and Bonnie/Christian goodness. I'll let you know right now, next update will be Bonnie and Christian in Copenhagen. What's going to go down and will Bonnie learn more about what her boss is getting himself involved in with this whole cloned blood business? Until next time, love you guys!**


	11. All Well in the State of Denmark

**A/N: Thank you, guys for the reviews! This is all Bonnie/Christian. Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters (except Christian Grey he belongs to EL James) are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Hotel D'Angleterre—Copenhagen, Denmark**

There was nothing rotten in the state of Denmark. Quite the contrary it was a beautiful country as I suppose all countries owns its only individual splendor and wonders that leaves your mouth hanging open in awe. Like a coin, there was another side to see. Not necessarily in this county but in the places I traveled where prehistoric ruins, fallen pagan temples, churches and monasteries converted into colleges, museums, or private homes added to the complexity of a land, or in a commercial way tried to rewrite history.

I could smell the sea in the air. There was magic in this place, not as heavy or heady like in my native Mystic Falls but enough that roused the witch in me beckoning it to come out and play. And I wanted to do just that because it had been too long since I let my supernatural hair down. But then that would negate the purpose of me leaving my old life in the dust to embrace my new one. I really didn't have time to merge who I once was with who I am now because I was with one of the most important men—at least according to the _Forbes_ 100 Most Powerful list—on the planet, and he needed my utmost attention.

I don't have to tell you that Mr. Christian Grey had it and then some.

The sound of water splashing led me to my boss' location. Honestly, when I was making the preparations for the trip I didn't think I'd find a hotel with enough stars that would satisfy Christian's opulent tastes, but whenever I questioned him about his specifications since I never traveled internationally or even domestically with him before, he would respond with: I have total faith in your abilities to please me.

Things that make you go hmmmmm…

But wait I'm kind of jumping the gun here because I need to dish on the juicy stuff that happened just two days before I boarded the seven hour flight to Denmark.

In retrospect, I'd say it was a deliberately calculated move by Christian. You beat me once again, House of Slytherin.

Mr. Grey had called all of us assistants into his office. He had been in and out all week, returning to the office looking more irritable and harried than the last. For a moment I didn't think the trip would actually happen. It wasn't often that my boss appeared flustered. He had the paten on unflappability and impassivity, and since his calendar never went into any kind of explicit detail on problems or issues bothering him, all I could do was make an educated guess. An educated guess I'd get wrong. But as I was saying, Christian had called The Blondes and my gorgeous self into his office.

We stood in line and in order of importance. The Blondes were armed with their company issued BlackBerry's and iPads, just as I was, but I couldn't stop biting my lower lip—feeling nervous and pensive. Part of me still held on to my saltiness with Christian for hitching me like a field ox to a wagon to get Damon acclimated to the CGI culture. However I recognized and so did my bills and bank account that I was here to do my job, to do my boss's bidding and not to complain.

At least not complain to anyone in an email, IM, or over the phone since things left digital bread crumbs that could be traced back to me. I like being employed, thank you very much.

Christian, as customary, stood behind his chair, hands braced on the leather, fingers denting the plush material. Those mercurial eyes of his looked at each of us one by one, his gaze lingering no longer than a few seconds at a time. Like I stated previously, moods were never easy to tell with him. One had to listen to the sound and timbre of his voice to gage the temperature of his thermostat. So reading him in that moment was almost impossible.

"As you know I will be leaving and traveling to Denmark for six days next week. Bonnie is accompanying me on this trip-,"

"I'm sorry, what, Sir?" Cheryl blurted out impudently.

Mr. Grey hated being interrupted and the fierce look that crossed his face shut Cheryl's trap, and she demurely and contritely lowered her gaze to her shoes.

"Go ahead and speak, Mrs. Prescott," Christian gave Cheryl the floor, but his voice was hard, challenging.

I tried futilely not to let a single muscle in my face twitch, but I was laughing like SpongeBob on the inside. Speaking out of turn was a _huge_ no-no. I mean, I did it last week but I think the only reason I got away with it is, well hell I don't know why. Maybe Christian had been in a generous mood that day or maybe he let Damon's presence influence his own behavior. Who knows?

Boldly Cheryl lifted her head and from the light flush to her cheeks and her tightened lips it was blatantly obvious she didn't think a lowly third rate assistant should take her spot as Mr. Grey's traveling companion.

"I meant no disrespect, Mr. Grey," Cheryl mollified, "but I have traveled with you consistently for the last four years, and I know the procedures you demand backwards and forward. To prep Bonnie for something of this magnitude would take more than just two days as I assume you plan to travel on Sunday."

"That we are, and I understand it doesn't leave you much time to get Bonnie prepared. Nevertheless, I know you are quite capable of prepping her as I have all the assurance in the world that Bonnie is a quick learner. And her duties will be no different from what she does here. What I need you and Ms. Childs," his eyes flicked in Dakota's direction, "is to make sure everything remains operational and you facilitate any problems that may occur in our absence."

Okay, I wanted to wiggle my ear because he said "our" and not "my" absence. Out of my peripheral vision it would seem his little possessive noun hadn't gone unnoticed by The Blondes. Cheryl looked like she was receiving an enema; Dakota—like her brain was being deprived of oxygen.

Lovely.

"Is anything I said unclear?" Mr. Grey posed that question to all of us.

I shook my head while The Blondes said "No" in quiet and subdued voices.

"Well," Christian clapped his hands together. "You have work to do and I suggest you do it."

Us gals left Mr. Grey's office. Cheryl grudgingly told me to roll my chair to her desk so she could train me on the informational manual she had constructed as a result of being Christian Grey's right hand lady.

I had to give props were props were due. Cheryl was anal and organized and had that manual broken down into subgroups. I took notes on top of notes and after going hard at it for five hours I still felt a little unprepared. Cheryl even gave me a short etiquette lesson during lunch, which was probably the one and only time she and I broke bread since my working there. I wasn't a total cavewoman and knew the difference between a salad fork and a regular fork. I had some knowledge on how to behave myself at the dinner table. Feet were made for walking not to be used as a replacement for eating utensils. Got it.

When Sunday rolled around and Taylor picked me and my luggage up in the Phantom, I was a bundle of nervous energy and anxiety and I had to stop myself from picking up the phone, and making up some excuse on why I couldn't travel. I thought of every lame excuse in the book: my passport was confiscated by US Marshals; I'm a fugitive; on probation and couldn't leave the country let alone the city; I had Ebola. It wasn't until I literally slapped myself that I began to calm down.

The flight, for me at least had been suspenseful. Christian had conducted business from the time we boarded to the time we disembarked. Several times I did see him giving me sidelong glances when he figured I wasn't paying him the slightest bit of attention. Shouldn't he know it was hard to ignore a well-dressed wolf that licked its canines anytime you shifted in your seat?

When we stepped off the plane, Mr. Grey rested his hand on the small of my back. The heat of his palm successfully raised the hair on my skin. Goose bumps rippled everywhere and thankfully were concealed underneath my pant suit. It wasn't a possessive touch, but a firm touch letting me know he was there but leaving enough space between us as not to showcase any kind of shared intimacy, inappropriateness, or line crossing.

His hand found its way to my lower back once more the second we arrived at the hotel and remained there until we checked in, but he dropped it the second we headed towards the elevators. I couldn't even tell you what happened during the exchange between hotel management, hospitality, or myself. It's all a blur.

Now it was Monday and the real fun would begin. At least that's what Mr. Grey promised before we parted ways after having a late dinner with several of his colleagues last night.

Pushing open the door to the pool area—I had booked the entire top floor for his private use—my silver studded Christian Louboutin heels clicked and clacked against the tiled floor. There was some research documents I spent a good two hours in the archives and law library back at CGI pulling out and compiling together that he said he wanted to look over. With him swimming away in the pool I had no earthly idea how I was going to get his attention. I flicked my wrist to check the time. It was ten minutes after seven and the first round of conference meetings was set to begin at nine a.m. sharp.

He must have sensed me or something because one minute his arms sliced through the water, and the next he was pulling himself free of chlorine bleached water.

When I say my tongue fell out of my mouth, my tongue fell out of my mouth and rolled out like a red carpet against the floor.

Rippling muscles, defined arms, pecks, abs, thighs, and legs with perfectly sculpted calves, wet skin, spiky reddish gold hair, all that male flesh exposed assaulted my eyes. But the best part was the cerulean Speedo that barely and I do mean _barely_ kept Mr. Grey's family jewels from making a special appearance was too much stimulation for my poor little sexually deprived mind to handle. It had been seven weeks since my last roll in the hay, and an image of dust mites riding on dune buggies in my coochie sprang to mind.

I remembered myself, remembered he was still my boss although I was seeing more of him than any employee should ever see of their boss, and then I wondered foolishly if I should have waited until later like when he had some clothes on before bringing these documents.

Naturally I couldn't read anything from Mr. Grey who approached with a slow and calculated gait. Instinctively I took a few steps back or else he would have plowed through me. He reached for a towel that had been draped on the back of a chair I hadn't noticed until now.

"Good morning, Miss Bennett," Christian spoke as he moped his face with the towel, ran it over his hair causing his biceps to contract, and his washboard stomach to stretch.

I will not lie. I had a female boner which made my cheeks blaze over and I averted my gaze.

"G-good morning, Mr. Grey. I—I have the documents you requested," I stuttered pathetically. "I'm sorry I should have waited until later to give them to you and not interrupt your morning swim. I can just leave them for your perusal and retrieve them later, which is what I should have done in the first place now that I think about it," I was rambling and couldn't help it.

"Its fine," Mr. Grey had the audacity to step closer to me.

Little drops of water rolling down his neck and chest tried to distract me but I managed pretty well to keep my eyes locked on his nose. I couldn't look into his eyes. Not with him standing so close.

And because he was standing close I felt something dripping on my foot.

"You're making me wet."

The sound of my voice reverberated around the pool and I froze in horror. Out of all the things you could have said, _mouth_ why o why did you have to say that?! I practically shrieked at myself.

"I mean you're dripping on my foot," I hastily corrected.

There was no mistaking the mirth dancing in his silver-blue soul catchers when I grew brave enough to make eye contact with Christian.

"I'm sorry," he said and then sank almost in slow motion to his haunches right in front of me. He wiped the droplets of water off my feet. Mr. Grey craned his neck upward. The mirth in his gaze had morphed into something seductive. "Are you wet anywhere else?"

"No," I said breathily. "I think I'm dry."

Mr. Grey returned to standing on his feet and draped the towel back over the chair. "If I do by accident get you wet again, you would tell me, right?"

Not on your life, Mister. I'm a lady.

I nodded my head and attempted to smile which was tremulous at best. Discreetly I took a deep breath and shook away the scandalous fantasies that were trying to take root in my brain. I recalled Damon's accusations about me being stupid enough to fall for whatever sexually charged game Christian was trying to play with me. Realistically I knew Damon said what he said out of jealousy because the whole time he's known me, I've only wanted one man. That man just so happened to be him. I had been as free as a bird when he and I first met though I dated periodically, but those dates never went anywhere.

Point blank, my ex-husband didn't know what I looked like when I wasn't making him a priority.

Still I knew I had to be very careful because I was several hundred miles away from home and this demi-god who paraded around in human skin was off limits.

However, I began to question if maybe I was transparent. No. Damon was just a hater.

"Do you swim, Bonnie?" Mr. Grey's voice interrupted my thoughts.

"I do."

"Would you like to join me? I _was _in the middle of my workout."

My face may have paled and I blanched. "I didn't mean to interrupt. You know I should take these documents upstairs and organize them according to level of importance. The first symposium begins at nine so we should leave no later than 8:30 at the latest. Have you eaten breakfast, sir?"

Maybe it was my imagination but a, I-want-to-fuck-you-sideways look came into his silver eyes to which he quickly blinked it away prior to responding to my query.

"No, I haven't eaten yet. Since you're going to my room order enough for the both of us. You know what I like to eat."

Nodding, I headed off and decided not to delve into the possible double entendre of his words.

His room was only one floor down and I quickly slipped inside and did what I said I was going to do. Arranged the documents in order of importance and once that was done I did my usual check to make sure everything Mr. Grey needed was easily accessible. I had done this prior to bombarding his morning swim, but I needed something to do with the nervous energy racking my body.

Once that was accomplished I placed an order to room service and ordered eggs scrambled hard for myself , eggs sunny side up for Christian in addition to Canadian and turkey bacon, English muffins, black coffee, and oatmeal.

My BlackBerry buzzed and I grimaced because it was Cheryl requesting another status update. Already she had emailed me five times in a little under two hours. I would deal with her thirsty ass later.

The bell sounded and I answered the door to usher room service in. The waiter quickly arranged the spread and bowed out of the room, accepting his tip graciously and saying no more than what was required.

My cell buzzed again and I smiled _this time _because it was Stefan calling. "Hey," I answered and then helped myself to a strip of bacon, biting off half the strip. "This is a surprise."

"Chewing and talking at the same time is gross, Bonnie. I hope you're alone."

"Yes, Mr. Priss. I'm kind of working though so make this quick. How's my girl?"

"I'm fine," he answered and I laughed. "Caroline is wonderful. I was just calling to complain that you slipped out of the country without inviting or telling me, but I understand its work related so I suppose I can't be too mad at you. I just had a slight panic attack when Damon told me you left…again."

Taking a seat at the table, I drummed my fingertips on the linen cloth. "Leave it to him to make the simplest things dramatic."

"Yeah, but I'll be in your neck of the woods soon enough and I'm requesting ahead of time that you and I have dinner."

"Is Caroline coming with you?"

"That can be arranged."

I smiled even bigger. It would be a sight to see those two in action. Back before things turned serious between Stefan and Elena, Caroline had tried to hook her talons into Stefan but to no avail. To see them now…was something I definitely wanted to witness before they tied the knot.

The door to the room opened and in walked my boss this time attired in a bathrobe, hair still wet and spiky. I gulped.

"Stefan I have to go. I'll call you later."

"I'm holding you to that. Take care, Bonnie."

"You as well," I clicked off my phone and sat it down at the same time Christian arrived at the table.

He inspected what I had ordered—pokerfaced, and then without heading into his room to make himself decent, he pulled out the chair opposite from mine and sat down.

"Have you tried the coffee?" Mr. Grey pondered and lifted the pot.

"Not yet. It's the Columbian blend you like."

"Black I hope," his eyes bored into me as if trying to chisel away at something.

Once you go black…

"Yes, Mr. Grey."

Christian smirked and poured himself a cup full of coffee. He took a sip and savored it for a moment before staring at me again.

"What's the first item to be checked off the itinerary?"

I pulled it up on my BlackBerry while also handing him a hardcopy. We went over his schedule and surprisingly Christian didn't make any changes.

"I want to apologize for what happened at the pool," Mr. Grey said suddenly.

I'm sure there was a stunned expression on my face. "Apologize for what, sir? I interrupted you during your morning workout. If anyone should be sorry, it's me. I barged in on your private time."

Christian shook his head. "My behavior was very untoward. I don't want you think I wanted you with me due to some ulterior motive."

Swiping my tongue over my bottom lip, I slid to the edge of the seat. "Why did you want _me _to come when Mrs. Prescott is the one who usually travels with you?"

"Routine becomes stagnant after a while, Bonnie. I'm a creature of habit as much as I'm a creature of spontaneity. You've proven you can handle yourself and I like you," Christian said that with so much simplicity I couldn't read anything more into what he just confessed.

Being a woman, though I would probably spend the next hour or two dissecting his words just for the hell of it and drive myself crazy in the process.

Taking a bold step I didn't break eye contact with Mr. Grey. I found I couldn't regardless. His eyes could convey a myriad of things and you'd never ever guess what he was thinking.

"Are you sure there's no ulterior motive where I'm concerned?"

I expected color to blot his cheeks or the tip of his ears, I'd take his neck at this point, but he remained the same. No change other than slight dilation to his pupils but that could be due to the sunlight streaming into the room.

Slowly, his pale pink lips lifted in a crooked grin. "I'm a man…we're always up to something. Well," Christian slapped his hands on the table and pushed himself to his feet, hand going to the knot of his robe, eyes still fastened on me. "I'm off to get ready. I'll meet you in the lobby in twenty minutes. Have Taylor bring the car around."

Christian walked off before I could reply. "Yes, sir."

* * *

**Three hours later…**

One of the first things I notice which wasn't easy to overlook was the huge discrepancy between males and females at this conference. It was not something that was terribly surprising since men liked to believe they were rulers of the world and held all the keys of authority and power in their hands. There were but a handful of top level female executives in attendance, though to be fair, the group overall was no more than seventy deep.

The number of female representation grew even smaller when you took in the minority account. Other than myself there were perhaps three other women of color—fifteen people of color total, yet only one really had any kind of say at this meeting of the minds.

The speeches and updates of different factions and sectors went on until noon. I took as many diligent notes as possible while doodling in between, but what was being said held very little interest for me and wasn't discussing the meat of the matter.

No one, so far, had said a peep about cloned blood. Dr. Henry Gao with his team of stone-faced geneticists and medical researchers was present, and you dern tootin' I tried to capture his attention. He looked at me once, nodded his head in acknowledgement before returning his attention back to the main speaker.

We were sitting in a coliseum-like auditorium, which this whole thing reminded me of the UN. Leaders from various countries had gathered from Germany, from South Africa, Australia, and even Lithuania for this conference.

Mr. Grey sat to my right, listening intently paying close attention. If he were bored it was impossible to tell.

Since he was being of no help to alleviate my boredom I decided to take a little inventory of the assembled posse to see if I was the only supernatural in attendance.

There was really nothing to it in terms of expanding my powers. It was like pushing out my aura, releasing the binding that held my magic in place and letting it frolic around before calling it home. I didn't glow, or levitate as a result of doing this. My eyes didn't change color nor would wind start blowing out of nowhere. Magic could be dramatic but most of the time the elements just responded by visibly showing itself whenever I cast a spell, heeding to my call, and doing what I needed it to do. I could control it and no one would feel anything unless I wanted them to.

Discreetly looking around I entered into my happy place and saw my magic float away or I should say radiate like heat waves as it tried to lock on supernatural signatures. Didn't take long before it bumped into something I immediately identified as vampire and quickly skittered away. I fanned it out to the east and west of me and picked up two werewolf signatures and was that a…fairy?

Oh, wow.

I noticed that several heads that had previously been slumped over perked up and covertly began to look around—noses twitching. That was enough, Bennett no need to draw attention to yourself.

I stared at Christian askance to see if he might have felt any residual side effects of my undercover recon mission. Other than shifting a bit in his chair, nothing about him had changed, or noticed what I had done.

Settling against the seat, I sighed as softly as I could. Presumably it was loud enough for a particular person to hear.

"I share your feeling," Mr. Grey spoke suddenly and I whipped my head to look at him. "All this meeting is about is seeing who's done the most damage to the commerce sector, and what can be done to lessen the rippling effects."

Gracing my boss with a head nod, my attention went back to the man standing behind the podium, reading verbatim from a prepared speech. Can't you ad lib just a little, dude? I'm not saying spit a rhyme or anything but sheesh do something to liven things up.

Christian leaned over to tell me something. His lips butted against my dangling earring as his minty breath caressed my skin like a blade of grass cutting through my concentration.

He began speaking but the low bass of his voice overrode the words he spoke. Mr. Grey's proximity coupled with seeing his rocket launcher that was hardly concealed in his Speedo, whatever propriety I was still holding on to slowly dissolved, faded into dust.

My panties—shamefully, were getting moist. My physiological response to him worsened the more time we spent together. The more he invaded my private space with promises of a nice warm body covering mine on a plush mattress that would serve as an altar for our secrets and deeds to be sacrificed was clouding my judgment.

I could be logical and say it was the novelty of someone seeing me as a woman and not a witch to explain all this, but then Mr. Grey might know my secret, and if so he wasn't playing fair.

Later, I heard myself saying, "Yes, Mr. Grey," but I don't remember what I said yes to. He could have asked to give me a pelvic exam…wouldn't be such a bad thing. I was due for a PAP Smear anyways.

About twenty minutes later people were standing up from their seats, stretching, and chattering away. I sat stunned for a moment before rising. Christian had already arisen and easily found himself engaged in conversation. He introduced me to a few people who politely shook my hand before dismissing my appearance as unimportant.

That was one of the perks to being an assistant. No one considered you a threat and spoke their minds freely.

I listened carefully to what was being said, tried my best to remember names with faces because the second I was alone it would be me, a pint of Hagan Daas, and Google all night long!

Dr. Gao approached Christian and I was back at the silent auction. The two of them greeted one another in Chinese. I perked up when Dr. Gao shook my head, but other than that brief pleasantry I detected no interest on his part. Drat.

"The lab is finally up and running. Trying to buy out the previous owner had been a pain, but definitely worth the investment," Dr. Gao filled in my boss.

Christian looked extremely pleased and relieved by the news. "Finally something that's gone right in these past two weeks. How soon can an inspection be arranged?"

"We can go today if you have the time."

Mr. Grey looked at me somewhat apologetically. Yep, I was about to be ditched. "Have Taylor drive you back to the hotel or better yet take a tour of the city. I probably won't be back until its time for the gala tonight."

"Are you sure you don't need me to come with, Mr. Grey?" This lab, whatever and wherever it was held the answers to the questions I had. I was sure of it.

"I'm positive, Bonnie. I'll see you tonight."

"Very well. Dr. Gao it was a pleasure seeing you again."

He bowed a little. "You as well, Ms. Bennett."

Welp, I collected my materials and began to make my way out of the building and into marvelous sunlight that burned my retina.

I had taken a single step down from the building when a deeply graveled voice with a thick Russian accent began to speak.

"I thought I had been imagining things when I felt the tickle of a Bennett witch fondling my backside."

Slowly I turned to face the owner of the voice and I smiled though I had no reason to be happy to see this particular individual.

"Urian Karloff, you bastard what are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you, but I think your presence alone has answered my question."

The man was stocky, built like a ram with a weathered and sun-beaten face that had seen better days. His thick, dark hair stopped just an inch shy of his brawny shoulders and though his clothes were slightly unkempt they reeked of an Italian designer. With those piggly muddy brown eyes that had been hazel or maybe even green at one point, he looked me over. There had been nothing lustful in his stare.

I met Urian years ago at one of the summits us supernaturals were expected to attend. Being married kept me from being courted, but that didn't stop Urian from trying his luck.

I had decided to wear my black dahlia ring just to send out a message I was not to be trifled with here in Denmark. I peeped Urian's hand to find he was wearing his as well. After all, he was a werewolf rumored to have been around since the fall of the Roman Empire though that claim had never been substantiated.

"I saw you with Christian Grey…he your consort now?" Urian inquired.

"No, he's my boss. What are you doing here, Urian?" I reiterated my original question.

"Like any good dog I have my nose to the ground and my ears pointed up. Humans can't be trusted, witchling."

"Shush," I reproached and cleared the space between us nearly wanting to jab him in the throat for calling me that. A vampire was lurking around as well as another werewolf and a fairy. I had never met a fairy but I heard they could be particularly vicious. They weren't all like Tinkerbell.

Urian smiled and when he did it just made the lines on his face even more prominent. "Forgiveness, madam. I have forgotten how you…sisters of the earth value your secrecy. May I be so bold as to ask what your plans are for this evening? I'd love to have you for dinner."

I'll bet. "I'm attending the gala," though I didn't know why one was being held in the first damn place, but whatever.

"I guess my invitation was lost in the mail," Urian hefted his large shoulders and then looked at something over my head. "My car has just arrived," he removed a business card from his inner coat pocket and handed it over to me. "I have information that you might find useful. If you _really _want to know what's going on here, I'll be more than willing to share what I know. For a _price_."

Naturally. It always came down to a price. I took the card.

"I was sorry to hear about your divorce, but then Salvatore wouldn't know how to hold on to a good thing if you tattooed the instructions on his ass," he wheezed a laugh. I merely pursed my lips. "Call me, Miss Bennett."

"I'll think about it, Mr. Karloff."

The ancient lycanthrope inclined his head and then ambled his way to his vintage Mercedes. When the car peeled away, I noticed Taylor had been waiting for me the whole time. Copenhagen was really beginning to blow.

* * *

The suck continued even as I downed another lemon martini. I'm not one of those people who constantly went around saying how hot I am, for I cannot tell a lie I was smoking tonight. Draped in an amethyst Carolina Herrera gown with a low back and a modest split on the side, you'd think this would bring all the boys to the yard. I guess my milkshake was spoiled.

No one had approached me not even to start a completely useless conversation. I guess they figured I was off limits considering who I was here with. And speaking of that particular devil…

Christian didn't get back to the hotel until an hour before the gala was set to start. After dragging poor Taylor from one tourist attraction to another before forcing him to have lunch with me, I had about three hours to kill the second Taylor chauffeured my impatient ass back to the hotel.

During that time I had arranged everything Mr. Grey would need. Made sure his tuxedo had creases sharp enough to cut skin, and was lint and static free that a computer chip could be built on it. I checked email, sent email, and organized the contracts he would need to review and sign later on tonight or tomorrow so they could be FedEx to their final destination.

My job was pretty much to make sure the man wouldn't have to strain a brain cell and think. He was my work husband for this week and I would have to say I took care of him.

Of course while I had done all of that Urian's proposition buzzed around in the back of my mind. He had information but wanted it for a price. Werewolves in the grand scheme of things didn't always need witches or spells to get the upper hand on their enemies. A bite from one of them equaled the demise of a blood drinker. So blood drinkers had to turn to witches in order to get the jump on a werewolf. So I really had no idea what kind of price Urian might ask me to pay.

I thought about calling Damon and letting him know. Then decided against it. I would handle this on my own. If things got too overwhelming then I'd turn to him, but not beforehand.

Moving on, Christian had abandoned me to my own devices to talk more shop about things he didn't want me to be privy to, but couldn't outright exclude me from. As the night worn on and my shoes pinched my feet, Urian's offer for answers was looking more and more promising.

Since I was so clearly not needed, I stepped out onto the terrace to get some fresh air.

Christian was confusing me. I was confusing myself if I thought long and hard about it. One minute he could be very attentive, watching me with those electrifying eyes, chiseling my mannerisms into his databank, and the next he treated me like I was a nameless gofer. To a certain extent I was, but I guess I expected more. Yeah, I know. Was kind of dumb.

He was my boss. No one needed to hammer in that fact. I got it. I had a contract to prove the validity of that fact. Yet he was also a man who on numerous occasions made it no secret that he might have a tiny thing for me. Or at the very least wanted to see me naked. Christian might have said he didn't bring me out here for ulterior motives, but then seconds later turned around and said men were always up to something. Personally I just wanted to know _exactly _what it was he wanted from me.

Someone joined me and I briefly acknowledged the man. He was a tall, pot bellied man with splotchy pale skin, blond-haired with a military buzz cut, and bloodshot blue eyes. I could smell he was drinking scotch and he had been drinking a lot of it.

"Beautiful night isn't it?" he took a sip from his glass watching me over the rim.

I turned away. "I suppose. All nights are beautiful."

"An American lass," he said in a thick Scottish accent. "A pretty one as well."

"Thanks," I murmured softly.

"No need to be shy," he stepped up next to me and I didn't get a good vibe from him. "You're here with Mr. Grey?"

Was that all anyone cared about? I nodded.

"Do you think he'd mind if I had you for the night?"

A needle scratched over a record and I glared at the man standing right on top of me. "_Excuse _me?"

The man laughed boisterously and stepped even closer. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm askin' you. I'll double whatever he's paying you. I know a high dollar whore when I see one. I heard from a couple of my mates black women were hellions in the sack."

My hand grew a mind of its own and slapped him clear across his jowls. I could have made the drink in his glass explode in his face and ignite it, but that might actually improve his face.

"Fuck you!" I fumed indignantly and rushed back through the estate looking for my boss. I didn't care how this would look. I had just been deeply insulted and I wasn't going to stand for it. I found Christian yapping away as usual and I boldly jerked him backwards by the arm. "We need to leave," I said between clenched teeth.

At first he looked pissed I'd handle him like an unruly child in public, but the second he got a good look at the fury marring my face, his concern took over.

"What's happened?"

I leaned up on my toes and whispered in his ear, relaying the scene that took place on the terrace. It went without saying the people who were standing around were straining their ears to hear.

When I stepped away, my anger had been transferred to Christian and he was off before I could stop him.

The man who verbally accosted me had moved on to try his charm on another woman who looked equally repulsed. He soon grew distracted by my boss who grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pushed him up against the brick railing. The asshole's drink slipped from his hand and crashed on the ground. Christian said some choice insults in the man's native tongue from what I could gather. The man, incensed, replied back just as heatedly and nastily.

"She's not a whore!" Christian railed in English. "She's my assistant and you _will _apologize to her _now _or I will wipe this entire gotdamn terrace with your fat ass!"

Security came out of the woodwork, asking Christian to step away, but he refused to budge until the man apologized.

There was a lot of pride swallowing on his part, but the unidentified motherfucker finally took his slightly frightened eyes off my boss and focused them on me.

"Sorry for my assumption, lass."

"Not good enough," Christian was about to throw a punch, but security intervened and pushed him away.

If Damon had been here the man would be missing a heart or his neck would have been snapped, or both.

"Mr. Grey, we got it. Return to the party," a security official pulled my boss away and the crowd that gathered to watch was scandalized. I felt embarrassed.

The conference official and head of security cut through the crowd to find out what happened. Christian snapped like a hungry dog at them, pointing wildly at me, then himself, and finally sweeping his arm in an arc snarling the whole time. His face was blotted red—I had never seen him this pissed before.

"Have him removed and all privileges revoked! He's out of the fucking program. Send him back to his whack ass country. Bonnie…come," Mr. Grey ordered his voice like steel and I dare not defy him.

We walked through the crowd that parted and gave us a wide berth. I stared up at my boss. "You can do that?" it was a delayed question. "You can have him kicked out?"

It was the dead of night but it still didn't stop Christian from sliding on a pair of aviator shades. He paused before entering the waiting Maybach, faced me and declared, "Don't you know who I am?"

* * *

It was all business between us when we got back to Hotel D'Angleterre. Mr. Grey had slipped out of jacket and lost his tie. I kicked off my shoes and the two of us made our way through our Outlook inboxes and swept through tedious contracts until my eyes were burning with exhaustion.

Neither of us spoke on what happened at the gala and though typically I probably would have let the entire incident go, it had been too long since someone insulted me. People, mainly my enemies had made cracks about my lack of magic when it decided to go haywire, yet I had always been able to deal with it and move on. Tonight had been different for various reasons.

Seeing Christian lose his fucking mind enthralled and scared me just a bit. He invariably gave off an aura of being as cool as an Arctic glacier, but tonight he had been Hades personified.

My boss flicked his pen on the coffee table and fell back against the couch. "Finally done," he fixed his gaze on me. "How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"I'm sorry for what happened tonight."

I shrugged. "Why are you apologizing? You weren't the one who behaved like a dick, but thank you…for sticking up for me." I faced him then. "Why did you? Anyone else would have written off the whole thing as the man just being a drunk asshole."

Christian rubbed what I assumed were sore muscles in his neck. "Drunk asshole or not still no excuse for the erroneous assumption he made. He insulted you and made you feel uncomfortable and I wasn't going to allow it."

I laid the pen in my hand on the stack of documents I had been editing. "Sometimes I question if people realize we're living in the twenty-first century. I guess it was too much of a leap for him to think that _the _Christian Grey would have an African-American assistant who's college educated to boot."

Christian snorted. "If anything like that happens again I want you to tell me."

"I can take care of myself, Mr. Grey."

"And I'm responsible for you here, Bonnie. Keep nothing from me, that's not up for negotiation," he pressed the issue.

I nodded in compliance knowing he wouldn't be placated until he thought he had won.

Silence followed.

I cleared my throat. It was late and we had yet another early day tomorrow. But then I had a slightly petrified thought. "I'm sure what happened tonight will be the talk of the conference. Maybe I should lay low for a while…until things blow over."

Already, Mr. Grey was shaking his perfectly tousled head at me. "I need you with me tomorrow. I'm sorry but you're going to have to suck it up. No need to worry, people know what will happen if they cross you _or_ me, or make a comment. There shouldn't be any problems moving forward."

Man to have his confidence.

Slapping my hands on my thighs, I rose from the couch. Silver-blue eyes followed my every move.

"I'm off to my room. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Bonnie."

"Good night, Mr. Grey." I put my shoes back on and then headed towards the door. I more so sensed him behind me rather than actually felt him behind me, but I knew he was there when I attempted to open the door and his hand shot out and slammed it closed. I didn't turn around.

Mr. Grey's breath fanned my hair against the shell of my ear. "_Christian," _he growled. "Call me that."

"It's unprofessional."

"_Fuck _professionalism, Bonnie. I've broken so many rules with you."

I blinked at that but refused to turn around to look at him. "What rules?"

Christian laughed in exasperation. "I threatened a foreign senior official, an ally of the United States tonight. Bonnie, I've broken so many protocols with you, and I'd gladly break them all just for you to…" he stopped.

My heart was throwing a rave behind my sternum. "What?"

"If I say what I'm going to say it'll change everything."

"We're adults, Mr. Grey," so says the woman facing a door.

"And that's why you've been facing me this entire time."

Inhaling a massive breath I faced the man who came to rescue my honor, virtue, and reputation.

"That's better," Mr. Grey concluded and braced his other hand on the door effectively trapping me in. He leaned close, not enough to touch, but enough that I wanted him to touch me. "I'm sorry for how this is going to sound, but I'm done pretending. I would give _anything _to feel you cum on my dick."

Well. Hot. Damn.

Chapter end.

**A/N: Yes, I have to end it there, I'm sorry kittens. But things will pick up from this spot in the next update, and Bonnie will get one step closer to getting answers on this whole cloned blood thing. Miss Bennett is standing on a precipice. Will she take the leap or run in the other direction? Stay tuned. Thank you for reading, and please review! Until next time, love you!**


	12. Follow My Rules

**A/N: This chapter has been a long time in coming, pun so not intended. I can definitely say I was BLOWN AWAY by the response from the last chapter. You guys…I'm speechless. Thank you from the bottom of my little shipper/fangirl heart! For your awesome feedback (here's to hoping for a repeat performance). I do apologize for making you wait for the follow-up but I wanted things to be as close to perfect as I could get it. **

**WARNING: If you are on any kind of medication for any kind of heart or respiratory condition please pop a pill now. This is explicit and depending on one's view, kind of raunchy. If you in any way find that kind of content offensive, this chapter is not for you. To everyone else enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters (Christian Grey belongs to EL James) are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

When a man tells you that he wants you to cum on his dick, this can be taken in one of many ways, and it is also dependent on the man. If a man you have zero attraction to uttered those words, you would be inclined to take them as an insult and an attack on your sensibilities. If the culprit is your boss, he's bordering on sexual harassment territory. However, if those prolific words are spoken by someone's whose privates you would indeed like to cream on—now you're talking equal opportunity.

My case was sensitive to put things mildly. Christian Grey was my employer. He delegated orders and I followed them to the letter with very little deviation. If I refused—would he fire me? If I went along this very explicit path he just launched us on—would I just become another stereotypical statistic? I didn't want to make my mark by falling to my knees for this man. And though it went without saying Mr. Grey coveted his privacy like a recluse, people were apt in uncovering illicit affairs.

We could hide behind succinctly spoken words, avoidance of eye contact, never step a hair over the line of personal space, but someone somewhere would be able to look at us and go: "Oh yeah they're totally fucking."

And of course there was _one _person who could never _ever_ find out. Not in this life and certainly not in the next.

I swallowed with some difficulty. Christian's hawk-like gaze never vacillated, nor did it have to because the message had been spoken frankly. He couldn't have gotten his point across more bluntly and I had expected nothing less from him anyways. Christian was straightforward. Sure he could be like a Renaissance courtier and praise someone with pretty words and flattery, yet at the end of the day he was a child of the modern era and didn't believe in sugarcoating anything. He didn't believe in wasting time.

He had made his move and now he was waiting on mine. Needless to say, I was stuck.

Honestly, I had never been in this situation before. Only one person had made his wants pointedly clear and I had been married to him for five years and dated him a whole bunch of years before then. So indeed I was about to have my casual sex cherry popped.

As much as this twentysomething witch wanted to take the plunge, I felt I had to be the reasonable one here. Don't get me wrong. I wanted to pounce on him so much that my fingers this whole time had been pressing into the wood of the door. I'm sure my cuticles were bleeding from the force alone. My breathing turned a bit shallow and every time I inhaled I smelled nothing but Christian.

He was sexing me down without touching me. It was all in the look in those lightning bright eyes. The look on his face was his customary mercurial.

"Does what I say come as that much of a shock?"

Hearing his voice did shock me back into the moment and out of my thoughts.

I shook my head. "I had no idea…Mr…Christian," I gulped lamely.

One eyebrow rose in skepticism. "None whatsoever?"

Okay, I had a tiny inkling of an idea. The long measured looks, the compliments, the closeness, the formality in calling one another by our first names. Christian did not have that kind of openness, if that's what you want to call it, with anyone else from what I had observed in being his assistant. He was all business all the damn time. Sure, he'd crack a charismatic smile, and hearing the sound of his laughter was like spotting a sloth running across a field—just didn't happen.

"Maybe a little of an idea," I remedied.

Christian took a single step forward and I felt his belt buckle lightly press into me an inch above my navel. His arms bent and his elbows were just centimeters from touching my shoulders.

He licked his lips. "I have dreamt of _nothing_ but tasting, eating, sucking, fucking your pussy. And I know it's not right, but I can't seem to help myself. You don't know how many times and in how many ways I've tried to quench this insatiable need I have for you, Bonnie. One a day, three a week, all of them faceless, and none of them could get me to stop thinking about _you._"

My skin was _so_ hot I was surprised it wasn't smoking. Unintentionally the lights flickered and caught Mr. Grey's attention for a millisecond but he was staring right back at me.

I needed to gain control of this before I outed myself, but it was hard because not even Damon talked to me like this and his mouth and mind could be disgustingly filthy at times.

"Mr. Grey…"

"Christian," he bit out.

I stared down at my feet needing to put some kind of space between us. "I'm your assistant…we can't go there."

He sighed more like hissed. "Don't you think I _know _that? That's all I think about, day in and day out. If you weren't who you are and I wasn't who I am…you'd be mine, no questions asked."

My head snapped up and my eyes may have narrowed slightly. I didn't mind some displays of alpha chauvinism, _but _I cut shit off the minute a man started to view me as _property_ and not a human being with inalienable rights.

From the expression on my face it seemed that Christian knew he needed to cool it with the possessiveness. However, he was far from backing down.

"All I'm trying to say is that only a type of woman appeals to me…hate to say it but I'm high maintenance when it comes to female companions, but you…" his eyes trailed over my entire body before coming to rest on my face once more. "Excite me, challenge me, make me long for more than just sex."

"From what you told me all you want is just sex."

Mr. Grey shrugged. "I love the fuck out of sex, I won't lie about that. Yet I find myself wanting more than just that from you. I've questioned why."

Because I'm flawless, duh, I wanted to say but held my tongue.

"I'm the consummate professional," Christian went on to explain his plight, "no one knows anything about me no matter how far they try to dig. No one knows what I'm thinking until I say it, but with you, you understand a part of me no one knows exist."

Now it was my turn to arch an eyebrow. He completely lost me because most of the time I felt like I was learning as I went along with this man. Trial and error, more error than trial, so I had no idea what part of him I understood that others had remained clueless on.

I certainly didn't think he was referring to me anticipating his needs. I was trained to do that. So what exactly was my employer trying to get at?

"I don't want you on a platter," Christian tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and then traced the shape of it with his thumb. Oh, yeah I shivered from that small amount of contact.

"Then what do you want?"

Those eyes deepened until they looked like metal. "I want you to make me _beg_ for it. And you have been. You just didn't know it."

My Kegel muscles contracted. Oh boy.

There were so many decisions for me to make and I honestly didn't think there was enough time to make them. This wasn't something I could jump in with both feet and think I'd come out of it unscathed. There were so many red flags lit it was like I was trying to land a plane.

To come on his penis or not to come on his penis, _that _was the question.

At the end of the day we couldn't do this. It wasn't right. It was highly unethical and unprofessional. He held the purse strings while I counted the beans. We where here in Copenhagen on a business trip, not to start an affair.

My flesh, however, was not in agreement with me.

He was tall and broad shouldered, had impeccable manners, expensive tastes, was a humanitarian, mysterious, a corporeal form of a male protagonist from a Harlequin romance series.

And he wanted me.

Take the plunge, Bonnie what do you stand to lose? Self-respect, my reputation, my livelihood. What would I gain? Experience, memories, a notch on my belt.

Christian sighed at my prolonged silence. "I know what I'm laying down is…its foolish."

He was talking sense again—good. "There's so much at risk, Christian. Not just with me but with you as well. I'm sorry but that's just a frying pan I don't want my butter to melt in."

He smiled a little at my southern idiom. "Are you only saying what you _think _is the right thing to say, but it's not really touching on what you feel?"

I drew my bottom lip into my mouth before releasing it. "What I feel is not important. It's who I am that is. The world we live in isn't perfect, but I would be the one cast out and called names if this became public. Mr. Grey you're an intelligent businessman. It goes without saying _this_ would cause a lot of problems in the workplace. It could potentially hurt your empire."

Christian closed what space there was between us and I felt him. Wowzers! There wasn't a secret for him to hide. Granite—pure granite was biting into my hip and upper thigh.

"I think you're misunderstanding me, Miss Bennett…I'm not a teenaged boy that's never had pussy before. I don't let it consume nor control my life. My personal life is just that…personal and has very little effect on my professional one. Unless you're trying to say that your…"

I slapped a hand over his mouth. If he said the P word one more time I would have no choice but to maul him. Knowing that's exactly what he was aiming for, this ice I was treading on was melting faster than I could get to the other side.

Slowly, Mr. Grey curled his fingers around my wrist and pried my hand off his mouth but not without sneakily licking my palm.

A drop of moisture hit the seat of my panties. My common sense brain cells scattered for a moment before I chased them down and placed them back in my basket.

"I'll compromise with you then, Miss Bennett." Pause. "You're fired."

"What?" I squeaked.

"From this moment forward you aren't my assistant. You're no longer employed with Christian Gray Industries effective immediately."

"Okay, okay, hold up. Nope we're not doing this. I saw this in a movie once. You're not going to fire me every single time you feel a little randy and then re-hire me after busting a nut. I deserve better than that."

A chastened look sprang up on Mr. Grey's visage and he bowed his head a bit. Plan foiled. After a moment he was staring at me again.

"Then I don't know what else to do. I've already said enough to damage our working relationship. You're well within your right to sue the pants off me for sexual harassment. Everything is in your court, Miss Bennett."

In my court. The one with the ball was the one who dictated the rules and the moves of the other players. I didn't have to be a subject but could subject others to my will. With the ball being in my court that meant I could stall. Give myself more time to think rather than jumping off the diving board and landing in bed with him. Loopholes…always look for the loophole. Something came to me.

I could give us both what we wanted without having to fully compromise our working morale.

Grams would never approve of something like this, but then again she did use to hotwire her dad's Cadillac to go joyriding with her boyfriend who did a small stint in state prison for larceny. I guess I was just following in the wild streak of the Bennett women before me. No need to break or interrupt tradition now.

Touching Christian was not a foreign thing. My hand was quite familiar with his arm and bicep, but it didn't know the other parts of him like: his chest, his stomach, his longbow that made quite an impressive tent in the middle of his trousers. Emboldened, I lifted my hand and flicked one of the buttons on his shirt.

Surprise changed the color of his eyes and he held himself completely rigid unsure of what I planned to do next, or as if this was a sign I was giving in to wanton desires we both shared. Leisurely my hand traveled down the center of his chest and I could just make out the definition of muscles he took so much pride to show me the other day. A corner of my bottom lip became trapped between my teeth and I bit down hard enough to make myself bleed, but I held back once my finger bumped into his belt buckle.

Mr. Grey's head fell forward and touched mine like a kiss. "You're killing me," he groaned.

I said nothing but continued on with my journey, my fingers sliding over the soft fabric of his pants until _bingo _I had reached the motherland, and let me tell you she was vast and wide! The terrain was hard and I could even feel the heat of his pulsating prick through two barriers: his boxer briefs and pants. If he didn't go commando he was unquestionably a boxer briefs kind of guy.

It was my turn to gasp a little when Christian had worked a hand between the split in my dress. His fingers caressed my leg, moving upward with the same speed I used and then curved inward to brush against my lace covered mound.

We were like a pair of teenagers exploring one another and unconsciously I widened my legs allowing him better access to slide his fingers down my wet slit.

He did and I moaned and took greedy possession of his cock where Mr. Grey let out another groan, this one more growl than groan, but deep and guttural enough to make my nipples hard.

I counted in my head and tensed when Christian slid his fingers past the elastic lining of my panties and really touched me. His fingers explored my weeping flesh, stroking my outer labia before pushing his finger inward to fondle my pink part.

"You're so _wet_."

"It happens when I'm excited," I smiled a little. Then an inhuman sound broke through my lips the second Christian began to work his fingers back and forth, toying with my clit before teasingly circling my hole. His lips latched on to my neck, sucking the skin right behind my earlobe. Oh, gawd how did he know that was my spot!

The fingernails of my free hand rose up and bit into his shoulder.

"I want it, Bonnie," my seducer confessed. "I _want_ you."

I couldn't speak at first. Too lost in the sensation and nearly hit a high C note when Christian penetrated me with his middle finger. I felt him slide in past the knuckle and deeper still that finger traveled. My body went a little limp but he held me upright breathing harshly against my neck. One pump, then two, another, and then he swirled his finger around. I was going to come if he kept this up.

With a lot of effort, I grabbed Mr. Grey's hand and pulled it away from my dripping center. He jerked back and frowned at me.

"What…?" he asked and then stuck his wet fingers in his mouth and greedily licked them.

Christian looked feral suddenly. My heart dropped to my stomach.

Throat exceedingly dry and my ovaries demanding to explode, I pushed it all aside because I had to say this. Time passed, no words were exchanged between us which heightened the extrasensory synapses in our brains. Color blotted his cheeks, his lips were redder than usual, and I'm sure I looked just as flush as he did.

Moistening my lips with my tongue, I stared at my boss unflinchingly. "I want you to go in your bedroom, undress, turn off the lights, get into bed, and I want you to think about my pussy until you come." Pause. "But you're not allowed to touch yourself."

The expression that befell Christian's face was comical. Incredulity mixed with befuddlement, with a splash of disappointment, yet a pinch of excitement morphed his preternaturally handsome features into that of a man ready to accept the challenge, one I'm sure no one had ever issued before. If I was going to set a precedent best believe it was going to be the precedent of all plot twists and monkey wrenches. He wanted me to make him beg for it, well here you go, slave. Beg.

Continuing, I said, "I want you to write down what you thought about, how you came and be as detailed and as explicit as you like. I want it handwritten, no mistakes or typos, and submit it to me in the morning for my approval. If I like it, tomorrow night you may touch yourself. Do you understand, Mr. Grey?"

A cold veil encroached on his face and I thought perhaps I may have overstepped my boundaries just a tad bit. But I wasn't going to back down from this. If he wanted me it would have to be on my terms.

"Do you understand, Mr. Grey?" I repeated my question with the full force of the witch goddess in me behind it.

"Yes, I understand, Ms. Bennett." The muscle in his jaw flexed repeatedly.

Blindly, I reached for the door handle and pulled down the lever until it opened. "Good. I'll see you in the morning."

Slipping out of the room, I finally took a much needed breath and had gotten to the elevator before I heard my name being called. I turned around and saw my boss hanging out the door of his suite, that cold veil still in place.

"Thank you, Bonnie."

I didn't say "You're welcome", merely inclined my head and got on the lift.

I collapsed against the wall. Adrenaline made my limbs shake and I breathed through my nose and mouth. Good Lord, what was I getting myself involved in? All I needed was a pair of thigh high pleather boots and a whip and just call me Mistress Bonnie.

Was that what he wanted? A dominatrix? I didn't know but I knew one thing as I got ready for bed. Morning couldn't get here fast enough.

* * *

_The Duchess _was playing in the background as I meticulously put on my make up. I had a fitful night of sleep, my dreams volleying between rolling around in a five-star hotel bed with a copper-haired man with ridiculous slat-gray eyes, versus being thrust into up against a wall by a vampire as pale as the moon with blue eyes that burned like fire.

Sitting in only a bra and pencil skirt, something slid underneath the crack of the door drawing my attention. I frowned and then I remembered the request I made last night before leaving Christian's room.

He had done it. He had written down how he got himself off without touching himself. Immediately jumping to my feet, I flew across the room and picked up the envelope that simply had my first name written across the top in elegant script.

I don't need to tell you that I was having a slight panic attack. Did I want to read this now or later? If I read the contents right this second it went without saying they would be in my head all day and I wouldn't be able to get a lick of work done. Lick. Shiver. Shimmy. Would Mr. Grey be expecting me give my critique of his fantasy while we're seated in the backseat of the car pretending Taylor wasn't listening? No, Mr. Grey was much too discreet to even think of talking about something like this even with his shadow present.

No, this needed to be postponed. I would make him wait. If he asked, I would say that I had too much on my plate than to give his "thesis" a single thought. I'm sure he would _love_ that.

I finished dressing and joined Christian in his room. He was on the phone giving out instructions on a medical and food drop to take place in Darfur. He didn't spare me a single glance which was just fine as I settled on the other vacant couch across from him and proceeded to handle my end of the business, mainly the accounting. Totaling the receipts and keeping a detailed record of every single dime being spent by the second.

Breakfast was waiting like I had hoped since I placed the order with room service the night before so that it would be available as soon as Mr. Grey peeled open his eyes. From what I could see he hadn't touched a single thing. I quickly glanced at him. His head was still down as he flipped through pages of some dossier, pen in hand. Christian was already dressed but the top three buttons of his shirt were undone, and his tie hung around his neck waiting to be tied. He was wearing Versace cologne today and I had to say I liked the scent. It suited him as did everything he chose.

"Get back to me with those figures and make sure the drop arrives at the scheduled time." Like always Christian ended the call without a single salutation or word of thanks.

Inwardly I shook my head and wondered if his mother would be proud of the way he decided to conduct business.

Mr. Grey placed his phone on the coffee table and then snapped his eyes towards me. He seemed a little surprised to see me sitting in his room. I had a key so I could come and go as pleased and when needed, and knowing he was an early riser I didn't think much of it to show up here without checking to make sure he was up.

"Good morning, Mr. Grey."

"Good morning, Miss Bennett. I trust you slept well."

Not at all. Stuffing sheets between your legs was a poor substitute for a dick. "Yes, I did," I replied. This would have been my chance to ask how did he sleep, but from the slight discoloration marks under his eyes it was proof enough he didn't get much sleep either.

The tension between us that seemed to start the night I attended the auction had become thicker, heavier. It was a physical presence I could almost see. I gulped nervously and looked away because of the intensity of Christian's eyes. He was about to open his mouth when a knock sounded on the door.

"Who is it?" Mr. Grey bellowed loud enough to be heard.

"Taylor, sir. There's been an incident."

Mr. Grey was up and out of his seat and stood before the door by the time I turned around to stare at the door. Taylor began filling Mr. Grey in on whatever happened and since they were whispering I couldn't make heads or tails of what was being said. A minute later, Mr. Grey closed the door and then began tying his tie and buttoning his shirt at the same time.

"Is…everything okay, sir?"

Curtly Mr. Grey shook his copper head. He looked pissed off as he jammed his arms into the holes of his jacket.

"A mishap has taken place at the lab. I need to go and assess the damage."

I got to my feet determined to have at least one of my questions answered. "Mr. Grey..." he continued to ignore me. "Christian?" he finally looked at me as if to will me to hurry the hell up to say what I needed to say so he could leave. "Can you tell me what's going on with this lab? You've mentioned it several times and I did a little background check on Dr. Gao and all I was able to find was that he's one of the leading pioneers in hematology. A source told me that CGI is looking into cloned blood…why?"

Mr. Grey approached me then and I saw a brief flash of resignation in his eyes. "I'm legally bound to keep this confidential, Bonnie. I can't tell you what's going, but know it's nothing illegal and what's taking place will help improve the lives of nearly everyone on the planet. That's all I can say. I have to go. Consider this your official day off."

Great, I thought as Christian slipped through the door ditching me once again. Since I had nothing to do other than menial assignments that would take no time at all to finish, I waltzed over to the dining room table and helped myself to some bacon. Oh, Mr. Grey wouldn't tell me anything, but I'd get answers soon enough.

In the meantime I had an essay to read.

When I made it back to my room, I called Urian and set up a time and place for us to meet since he claimed to have information on what was really going on at this conference. Once that was done, I picked up the envelope and then settled on the small couch in the sitting room next to the window.

No more stalling.

XXXXXX

_A thousand different scenarios must have flashed through my mind before the right one finally popped up. And it's not something overly lavish or overtly disgusting like you'd see in a hardcore porno. Simple can be more sometimes and it's best to start off slow. _

_We're at my high-rise condo. It's been a long taxing day and all I want is a drink and you spread across my lap rocking those tantalizing hips back and forth, grinding your pussy on me, but anticipation could be more fulfilling than actually doing the act. _

_Because you've always been good at anticipating my needs without me having to ask, you approach, stand beside me with a glass quarter filled with my ninety year old scotch. There's a teasing smile on your lips painted an obscene shade of red, but your eyes are checking out the view. You can almost see the whole of the city from where we're standing. I wait for you to comment, but you don't and the absence of your voice makes me want to hear it directly in my ear breathy and moaning. _

_I take the glass and drown the contents without really tasting anything. You take the glass from me, then my hand, and pull me away from the floor-to-ceiling windows and gently push me down to the sofa. My eyes follow you as you flick your tongue around the rim of the glass, your eyes fixed on mine and already I feel like we're fucking. The palms of my hands burn, my groin stiffens, and I'm fully erect behind the zipper of my pants. My dick is jealous of a glass right at this moment. I'd love nothing more than your tongue to dance around my shaft, head, and balls, but I read in your eyes you're only interested in one thing._

_Teasing me._

_Your eyes drop knowingly to my crotch and again that infernal smile is on your face. Your face is so beautiful that I find myself inexplicably unable to look away. But I vaguely see you place the empty glass on a table and then move to the sofa across from mine. _

_I swallow as you slowly sit down and cross those legs one over the other, and then link your fingers and cup them over your knee. Your right foot housed in a six inch patent leather pump begins to swing back and forth like a pendulum, and we do nothing but stare at one another._

"_Light a candle," you say in that soft, feminine voice. _

_I slide to the edge of the sofa where several decorative candles are and a box of matches. The flame ignites and I light the wick, and blow out the match. _

_You let out a nearly inaudible sigh and then reach up to undo the bun you've styled your hair in. Waves of chocolate curls tumble around your face and cover your shoulders. I lick my lips and watch as you unbutton your suit jacket and then trail a hand beginning from your jaw, down your neck, before your fingers bottleneck between the valley of your breasts. You run a hand over a mound, enticing the nipple to stiffen and it does and I can see it push against what I'm hoping is a lacy bra with no padding, and strain against the material of your white silk shirt. You twist your nipple between your thumb and forefinger and your head drops back as a rush of pure sexual pleasure ripples through you. _

_A drop of pre-cum drizzles from the head of my dick and I want to show you what you've done, but you look at me as if knowing what I'm about to do. _

_You wag a finger at me and sit back against the padded cushion of my white leather sofa. "I only want you to watch, Mr. Grey and when I tell you…then you can touch yourself. Do you understand?"_

_I nod my head like a compliant little boy and sit back as well._

_You slouch a little in the seat and uncross your legs just enough for me to see between them. I'm licking my lips again tasting salty sweat that's beginning to coat my upper lip and my hair line. I'm hot and the air is on but I can hardly feel it because I want to fuck you too badly to notice anything else apart from you. My own nipples are erect and I'd love nothing more than to feel your pink tongue flicking against them, but again that will have to be for another time. The thought alone, though, is enough to make me groan and become violently erect—harder than I've ever been._

_I watch as you run your fingers up those sculpted legs where I've been dying to know how they'd feel wrapped around my waist, upper back, and shoulders. You grab the hem of your black pencil skirt on both sides and slowly begin to lift it higher and higher until it's cinched around your waist._

_Buttons slip out of holes in your shirt and my eyes feast on your mounds barely covered with French lace. Just as I suspected. The tops of your dark chocolate areolas are on display and my mouth drools even more. _

"_Do you like my tits?" you ask._

"_Very much," I reply. "I want to see them."_

"_Not yet," you tell me sternly. Then to my pleasure you fondle your breasts through their lacy shroud, kneading them, pushing them high enough for you to lick one and then the other. You make them bounce, and then using only your index fingers you tease just the tips of your nipples._

_I can't keep still. I'm fighting not to touch myself at this point._

_You slip two fingers inside the cups of your bra and push them down freeing your mounds. Just as I imagine. Perfect quarter size areolas with half inch nipples. You squeeze, pull, twist them, and groan to the point I think you're coming just from tit play alone. This is better than porn, watching you get yourself off with only the barest kind of stimulation._

_One hand falls away from your breast and trail down the center of your body before slipping into your panties. I can see your hand moving in a clockwise motion before going counterclockwise. _

_Your eyes which had fallen closed at some point are focused on me and I see you nod your head._

"_Now you can touch yourself."_

_I eagerly unzip my pants, but like you I keep my privates covered and merely reach a hand inside my trousers and ghost my fingers over my rock hard dick. I want you to feel it because it's scorching and throbbing and I believe wholeheartedly my heart is in my cock because that's how badly it's pounding. _

_You work your panties half way down your thighs and the seat of them is covering up your pussy blocking it from view, but your right hand is still working you over while the left constantly plays with your nipple, alternating between each one. _

_Our heavy breathing is the only sound to be heard as I grab a fist full of my cock and began to stroke up and down and over the head and back to the base, repeating the process to match your pace. _

_You raise your legs and rest the stems of your stilettos on the edge of the sofa. I can see your ass and the bottom of your pussy and its sopping wet and the scent is more than succulent, and I'd like nothing more than to eat it. _

"_Not yet," you say as if reading my mind once again. Your knees are spread shoulder width apart now, panties still hiding the best part of you, and with the single candle burning to conceal what you're doing, it's light enough so I can see what you're doing._

_I stroke myself with a little more determination when I see you penetrate yourself with a finger and work it in and out of your hole almost experimentally before withdrawing to circle your clit._

"_I'm so wet, Christian. Don't you want to taste me?"_

"_Yes. Can I?"_

"_Can you what? You can do anything. That's not the right question to ask."_

_I realize my mistake. "May I taste you?"_

_Instead of granting me permission you simply lift the finger that you used to lightly fuck yourself and slip it into your own mouth and moan. _

"_Shit," I whisper and stroke myself just a little faster now. _

"_I want to see you."_

_I remove my cock from my pants and your entire face lights up. Not to brag but my name isn't the only thing to carry weight. My eight and a half inch dick salutes you proudly, corded in veins that I desperately want your tongue and fingers to trace each and every single one. _

_You slip your hand back to your mound and instead of using one finger you now use two and really being to pump._

"_Come here, Christian."_

_I'm up and off the couch and kneeled at your feet in an instant. _

"_Lick my stiletto," you order. _

_I extend your right leg and glide my tongue down the stem, over the heel, but I don't stop there, I move my tongue along your leg, and flick it back and forth behind your knee. I reverse and go backwards, sliding the heel back into my mouth where I initiate fellatio._

_Our eyes lock and your fingers are still entombed in your drenched twat. You're so wet you're dripping between your ass and staining the couch with your personal glaze._

_Removing your fingers you trace the shape of my lips with your wet fingers, and I happily lick them clean. Your taste is on my tongue, your heady scent is in my nose, and I find myself just wanting to take a bath in you._

_You sit up and grip me by the hair on the back of my neck, painfully arch my head backwards and kiss the fucking hell out of me. Our teeth clash, our tongues battle, while our lips play a ruthless game of domination and submission. And somewhere during all this you placed my hand on your pussy and my fingers sink into you over and over coaxing and pulling until your body tenses, jerks, and you spray my face with your immaculate juices. _

_I can't hold myself back any longer and follow suit, shooting my load into the carpet, resting my head against your thigh, and panting like I just won a race._

_But fortunately, that was just the warm up. _

* * *

Ho-ly…I think…I think I just came. There was definitely some contraction taking place deep within my womb, and my chest was heaving up and down as if I had sprinted a great distance. My hands were trembling and I'm sure my pupils were dilated to the max. If Christian ever wanted to walk away from running a Fortune 500 company and become an erotic novelist I would be first in every single line at a new book release.

He put another misconception I had to rest; that when it came to sex men couldn't be eloquent only raunchy. Though raunchiness had its purpose and uses during certain situations many women wanted to be seduced not treated like an animal in the bedroom. To think the man I slaved away for could have these kinds of thoughts about me not only made me see him in a new light, but it also terrified me.

What the hell was I supposed to do now?! My curiosity was off the freaking charts!

Taking a seat on the edge of my bed, face hot and burning, I nibbled my fingernail and tried not to re-read his homework assignment, you know just to check for grammatical errors. I had heard his voice the whole time in my head while I read, and pictured the both of us doing what he had written. Though it was a bit weird and discombobulating mentally visualizing myself masturbating in front of the man I worked for, those images were now permanently etched in my brain.

Crap, crap, crap.

I didn't know when Mr. Grey might return to the hotel. I had the rest of the day to myself and what business there was for me to take care of I had already handled. Whenever I felt this out of sorts about something there was that one person I turned to, my mainstay—Rebekah.

Quickly retrieving my phone, I dialed her up. If I couldn't reach her I'd call Caroline though I'd hate to get her involved in this because I knew how she was in relationships. Caroline shared _everything _with her significant other, and she would spill the beans to Stefan the first chance she got, and it went without saying that Stefan was the absolute _last _person I needed in my personal business. He could be just as bad at a tween with the latest piece of juicy gossip.

Rebekah's phone rang twice before she answered. "Well, if this isn't a pleasant surprise. How are you, darling?"

"In desperate straits. How are you? How are things going in Italy?"

"Dreadfully boring, but I'm to be released soon enough so I'm doing as you Yanks say…taking it one day at a time. I can hear your heart pounding, Bonnie. What's the problem now?"

I sighed and tried to get my thoughts together in a coherent timeline that would make it easy for Rebekah to follow and understand my predicament. However, my mind had other means to reveal the truth. "My boss wants to sleep with me."

"Again, I ask what's the problem?"

I literally pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it like a piece of unicorn poo. I returned it to my ear. "Bex…I think you're misunderstanding something."

"I'm not misunderstanding anything. I've met your boss, the handsome geek, and I'm surprised you've lasted this long without jumping his bones. I don't understand you career girls making such a big fuss about mixing business with pleasure."

"He's my boss!" I yelled indignantly.

"Bonnie, if you already made up your mind on not crossing a line you wouldn't have bothered calling me. It's only when you're uncertain about something is when you look to others for help. Oh, sure he's your boss and that can get hairy, but again if the both of you consent to some guidelines and rules I don't see what the problem is."

"The problem being that my reputation would be ruined if I not only engaged in a torrid affair with my employer, but it somehow became public knowledge. No one would take me seriously ever again."

"Then get a new job. I know it won't be too hard for you." Pause. "You're not freaking out because he's your boss. No, you're freaking out because if you sleep with him you'll feel like you're cheating on Damon."

The exasperation in her voice was staggering, but she may have been slightly on to something.

"He's the only lover I've ever had," I replied quietly.

"Which means you're long overdue for some new dick. My God, Bonnie this misplaced loyalty you have to that man is annoying."

I was beginning to get an attitude and defensive. "When you find, marry, and then divorce your fucking first love _then_ you can lecture me about loyalty!"

There was silence on Rebekah's end and I immediately regretted coming at her like that. Despite being more beautiful than a catwalk full of models, Rebekah's love life could be used to pump out a year's worth of Lifetime movies. Falling for men who used her for her money, or used her because they wanted to be turned into vampires, or used her to make another woman jealous, she had not been as lucky as others in the love department.

"Rebekah…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I was wrong."

"No, you're right. I've never been in love with someone who loved me as passionately as I loved them and you had that with Damon. I know divorcing him was difficult and that you still love him, so I understand, Bonnie how hard it is to let go of the past and move on."

I sighed. "Damon and I reached a plateau in our relationship…"

"If there was a way, he blatantly told you why he didn't want to become human again because of all the enemies he racked up, and you were never going to become a vampire because that meant you'd cease to be a witch."

"We couldn't agree on anything so being married to someone I couldn't move forward with was counterproductive to what I wanted my future to be. I wanted out before we began to resent each another. He gave me my freedom, and I've been trying not to look back in regret ever since. I'm sure some might think our reason for divorcing was stupid and could have been worked out…"

"They were your reasons and you know what's best for you, Bonnie. Let me ask you this. If Christian Grey wanted an actual relationship with you and not just sex, would you be more open to the idea?"

I mulled over Rebekah's question for a moment before responding. "Maybe. I'm not scared to move on," I clarified, "I'm not afraid of having my heart broken or being disappointed, I guess I'm more so afraid of hurting Damon. I would feel better if I knew he was out there seeing other people."

"You want him to?"

"That's what I've repeatedly told him."

"That's a yes or no response question, Bonnie."

I sighed once more. "Yes…I want Damon to…see other people."

Rebekah let out a girlish chuckle. "No, you don't. You're just trying to be politically correct about the situation. I have a cousin here who was turned vindictively by Kol ten years after we were made, and she's coming back to the States with me. Shall I introduce her to Damon?"

Ugh, I couldn't exactly say no, now could I? "If you think they'd hit it off."

"She's a great girl and so ridiculously sweet and beautiful…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I cut off Rebekah listing her cousin's credentials. I'm sure she was all that and a bag of chips, Big Gulp, and a pack of Laffy Taffy.

"Just remember this, Bonnie…you have no more control over what Damon does in his life than he does over yours. You can't keep putting your life on hold because you're afraid of hurting him by moving on. At some point one of you is going to have to decide to walk away—for good, and stay away. Now let me go. I'm meeting my family in hour for another round of talks and discussions I could really care less about. I'll see you in a week or so, love."

"All right. Take care and tell Elijah he still owes me a lasagna."

Rebekah laughed, "Will do."

"And Bex?"

"Yes?"

"I am sorry for what I said to you. I was out of line."

"It's forgiven and forgotten. I've been rather salty with you lately so consider your bitch moment a freebie."

We laughed and then ended up staying on the phone for an additional ten minutes talking about fashion. I always questioned why it took women forever to end a phone call.

By the time our phone conversation ended I received an email from my boss. He was back and had requested a private dinner and meeting in his room in one hour.

I gulped and was overwrought with anxiety, Mr. Grey's fantasy slamming into me full force. Pushing that aside there was still information I needed that he was going to give to me.

* * *

Finding what I needed in a city that had _some _magic didn't take as long as I thought it would. Candles could be purchased nearly everywhere, but when it came to certain herbs, well there weren't any good apothecaries around, but there were greenhouses and country estates where a person was welcomed to the local vegetation for a small price.

I unloaded my purchases and then arranged the seven non-scented candles in a circle lighting each one with a single thought. I mixed the herbs together while chanting an incantation as I did so. I added a small dab of witch hazel, water, salt, and flecks of marigold. When I had the chance I would sprinkle of the dust concoction on Mr. Grey's food and then start my interrogation.

Hopefully we'd actually eat and not do anything else.

I selected my outfit with care. Wearing a suit was out, but I did bring a tastefully chic white tunic dress with black beading around the neckline that I would pair with black pumps that had a silver bottom.

Checking myself out in the mirror after I showered, I carefully placed on my underwear compliments of La Perla, and slipped my feet in my pumps. I blotted my cranberry hue lips, and sprayed myself with perfume. My hair I decided to leave it pin straight with a section covering my left eye. Slipped my earrings in and forewent wearing my watch. Placing the herbs in a small baggie, don't ask where I got a baggie from, along with my ID, room keycard, lip gloss, and maybe a condom or two, I stored all of it in my clutch.

I was still on the fence about what to do with Christian, exactly, but I did know what my role was.

A man like Christian was used to calling the shots, being in control, making all of the decisions, being omnipotent and omniscient, but he was not a god but a man and there were rules and order, and yes authority even he had to bow down to.

Consent.

He had to have my consent, my willingness to participate before anything could move forward. Oh, I expected him to rebel because all the rebellious ones did, but then again he might surprise me. Christian was a great thinker like Socrates or Ovid, but inside of him was a man with no master who fought like a gladiator to get what he wanted.

He wanted me. But he also wanted me to make him work for it.

Leaving my suite, I took the elevator up to his floor with only five minutes to spare. I knocked once before inserting the spare key into the slot and pushed the door open as soon as the little green light illuminated.

I stumbled to a stop when I realized the suite was only laminated by candlelight. The table where we shared our meals had been moved to the center of the living room, the couches pushed out of the way.

Mr. Grey stepped out of his dark bedroom in a button down tucked into his black trousers with the sleeves rolled to the elbow, collar unbuttoned. His reddish-golden hair was tousled and finger combed to messy perfection, and those icicle eyes roamed over my body with his gotdamn bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

Oh, boy the sexual tension was choking me.

Knowing I couldn't remain by the door all day, I picked up my feet and crossed over the enormous living room and stood on the far side of the table. I sat my purse down and simply locked gazes with him.

It was hard to believe this man got off without touching himself just by thinking about me. I gulped down the tree stump that suddenly lodged itself in my throat.

"How was your day, Sir?"

"Eventful but uneventful at the same time. What did you do all day while I was gone? Reading something interesting, I hope."

My cheeks burned. Mr. Grey strolled a little closer and pulled out my seat but I didn't sit down.

"I read something that definitely opened my eyes," I said and observed as Christian's nostrils flared.

"Did it do anything else?" his tone was buoyant.

I nodded. I pivoted a little to face him head on and rested a knee on the chair and leaned forward until our noses were almost touching.

"I came."

"_Fuck_, Bonnie."

The chair between us went flying across the room. He grabbed me and the next thing I knew my back hit something and his lips were on mine. Greedy, soft, impressionable lips devoured mine hungrily and without inhibition. I opened my mouth wide enough for Christian to snake his tongue inside and when he did I tasted him and mint and even the faint hint of scotch. His mouth was warm, so warm that it was shocking because the last time I kissed a human I was seventeen.

His hands, Mr. Grey's big and powerful hands smoothed up my legs and pried them open more so he could comfortably wedge himself between my thighs. His chest was hard and muscular yet also malleable as it crushed and molded to mine flattening my breasts.

I wrapped my legs around his lower back and felt that noticeable bulge poking me centimeters above my throbbing mound.

Air, we needed air to breathe but the exchange of kisses continued until all traces of my lipstick were gone and my lips were puffy as if they had been stung by bees.

Blood rushed to my head and then to my fingers and toes before heading to that bundle of nerves that was weeping for stimulation of the oral kind.

But we needed to slow down and that thought only came to me when Christian began to yank my dress up while searching fruitlessly for the zipper of his pants.

I managed to snake a leg between us and pushed him away with my foot. Mr. Grey stumbled backwards and it was there I realized he had carried me over and placed me down on the coffee table.

Confusion, anger, and lust burned through his retina. "What's the matter?"

"You told me to make you work for it," I reminded him.

Mr. Grey still looked ready to demolish something with his bare hands but then a lopsided grin appeared on his face.

I crooked my finger at him granting him permission to approach. He did adding a bit more swagger to his walk.

"Kiss my leg," I instructed and held the right one aloft in the air. Mr. Grey followed my orders and placed butterfly, open-mouth kisses against my freshly waved leg. His lips were impossibly soft and sent tendrils of unrelenting sensation through me. "Run your fingers along my skin and when you reach my ass, I want you to squeeze it."

He did and panted a little as his touch induced sparks within me. When he got to my ass he not only squeezed, he kneaded the cheek and gave it a firm pat before squeezing it again.

"Slowly place my foot on the floor and help me up."

In one smooth motion I was on my feet standing toe-to-toe with my boss.

"Take me into your room," I said.

Christian was breathing much deeper now and so was I. "Are we doing this, Bonnie? We don't have to do…"

"Shush," I placed my finger over his lips. "What happens in Copenhagen will _stay_ in Copenhagen."

Mr. Grey looked ready to argue.

"We're going to go in there and play out your fantasy. Are you ready, Mr. Grey?"

He vigorously nodded his head and I dipped my eyes to check out the heat he was packing. Yum. He certainly didn't lie about that.

Taking my boss by the hand I led him inside his room.

His lips attacked my neck and shoulder, hands going around my waist. "There's something I want to do, Bonnie."

"What?"

Before Christian replied he ground himself between my cheeks and I stuck my ass out just a little more. I hissed.

"How do you feel about handcuffs?"

Chapter end.

**A/N: Verdict? Is it really about to go down? Bonnie has stepped a pinky toe over the edge. If she allows things to go all the way over the edge what will the repercussions be? What did you think about Bonnie and Rebekah's conversation pertaining to Christian and the reason Bamon divorced? I can't wait to read your thoughts. Thank you guys so much for reading and if you loved this or even remotely liked this, please don't be shy. Let a sistah know. Until next time, love you guys!**


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